


Departure from the Diary

by Tendrael



Series: Departure [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Corruption, Dark Harry, Dark Harry Potter, F/M, Female Tom Riddle, Female Voldemort (Harry Potter), Murder, POV First Person, Possession, Sane Tom Riddle, Slow Burn, Villain Protagonist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2020-03-29 22:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 101,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19028845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tendrael/pseuds/Tendrael
Summary: Harry is fully prepared to face the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny. Unfortunately, he never gets a chance. Tamelyn Riddle realises that killing one student and draining the soul of another would leave too much evidence of her return. Luckily, there's another horcrux right in her reach that she can use to hitch a ride.  A slowburn Harry/fem!Riddle fic.





	1. Merge

**ACT 1: Together**

 

* * *

 

The Chamber of Secrets is every bit as filthy as one would expect from a secret cave accessed from the sewers.

I suppose that that may be a little harsh, but Slytherin really should have known better than to build a giant cave under a lake, then connect it to a plumbing system.

Either way, my trek to try and find the abducted Ginny Weasley is far from pleasant.  While there is no actual sewage down here (small mercies), the water reeks like a stagnant pond.  Of course, the water is also everywhere, and as such, has long since soaked through my shoes, making every step an unpleasant squelch as the water was briefly squeezed out of my socks by my own body weight.

Part of me wants to hurry to the end so I can get out of here as soon as possible.  The other part of me knows that hurrying is a bad idea when dealing with a giant snake that could literally kill me with a glance.

God, how do I always manage to get myself into such situations?

Oh, yeah, it’s because I tend to rush into danger whenever I realise someone else is in trouble.

“Stupid saving-people hero complex.” I mutter to myself.  Normally, I’d try and keep my voice down, but the constant sloshing of water isn’t exactly keeping me incognito.  Apparently, using silencing charms on one’s footsteps doesn’t stop them from making noise when said feet are submerged in several inches of water.

Sometimes, I think I’ll never understand magic.  I’m sure Hermione could explain why the silencing charm isn’t working based on some principle I’ve never heard of that she read in an obscure book somewhere and now thinks is common knowledge.

I round another corner, with still no sign of Ginny or the basilisk.  I really hope that she’s at the end of the main path, rather than one of the numerous smaller side passages.  I know that’s what I’d do if I wanted to hide something or someone.

I move past the next bend, and see an ornate carving at the end of the passage.  Picking up my pace, I can make out the form of two interwoven stone serpents covering the wall.

Well, Parseltongue worked last time, so let’s hope it works again.

“ _ §Open§ _ ”

The sound of stone grinding against stone drowns out the idle dripping of water as the carved snakes come alive and slither out of the way, parting the stone wall behind them.

The next room is far more impressive than anything else in the chamber.  Ornate carvings of all kinds of snakes adorn a massive domed ceiling, while large statues of various serpents line the room’s perimetre.  At the far end of the room, a large statue of someone, presumably Slytherin himself, stands over twenty feet tall, while a larger relief of his face covers the wall behind him.  And in front of the statue lies…

“Ginny!” I shout out.  Seeing the paleness of her face and the stillness of her body sends my brain into a full panic.  I try shaking her awake several times before I have the sense to check for a pulse.

Well, I feel… something.  So, I now know that she’s alive, but not how she’s doing.  I have no idea what a weak pulse feels like since I’ve never felt someone’s pulse before.  As I try and figure out how to get her out of here, the soft clatter of wood against stone pulls me out of my thoughts.

The sound of someone picking up a wand is quite unmistakable.

I whirl around, reaching into my robes to grab my own wand…

...Only to find it twirling around the fingers of a familiar spectral figure.

“Riddle?”  I gasp out.  “Tamelyn Riddle.  What are you doing here?”

A wry grin stretches across her face.  “Making sure that everything proceeds as necessary.”  She replies.

Proceeding as necessary?  Why would she…

“It was you, then.” I say, the realisation hitting me.  “You opened the Chamber. You wrote those messages on the wall.  You commanded the basilisk to petrify all of those muggleborns.”

“Not quite.” She says, her grin growing wider. “But very good deductive reasoning.  I’m actually very impressed that you were able to figure out Tessie’s identity. The ability of a Basilisk’s indirect gaze to petrify is far from well known.”

I decide not to mention that it was Hermione, not me, who figured out the basilisk’s identity.  I also wonder why the basilisk’s name is Tessie. It seems like a rather cutesy name for a killer serpent.

“But you missed a few points.  For one, I was trying to kill them, not petrify them.  It would have made this whole process easier.” She says as she gestures at her transparent body.  “And that leads me to my second point. I was hardly able to act directly. I didn’t even have a physical manifestation until today.  No, the true culprit was none other than Ginny Weasley herself.” Tamelyn reaches into Ginny’s robes, pulling out a very familiar black book.

“The marvels of magic never cease to amaze me, you know.  To think that something as inconspicuous as an old diary is a means to possession by the greatest dark witch of the age.”

My eyes narrow.  That does not sound like a normal thing for a sixteen year old girl to say, not that I had any experience.  “Who are you,  _ really? _ ”

She giggles, a haughty, arrogant sound, and stares me in the eye.  “Don’t you recognise the future Lady Voldemort? I’m not surprised that my future self went through great pains to dissociate her identity from mine.  The half-blood bastard daughter of a squib and a muggle is hardly a worthwhile background to hold onto, especially not when it comes to manipulating the pureblood elite.”

I mentally kick myself.  Even with the “Lady” title, it was easy to forget Voldemort was female, especially since no one called her anything but “you-know-who”.  Heck, it’s hard to remember that she was even human, what with the horrible deeds she committed and how grotesque and monstrous she looked when I saw her last year.  The idea that she had such a human appearance once is… disconcerting. A reminder that someone  _ chose _ to be like that.  But still, this couldn’t really be her… 

“Voldemort was over fifty years old when she died that Halloween.  You still look like you did when you were sixteen, in that memory. You’re not her.  Not exactly.”

“Oh, believe me, my core self did not die that night.  My existence here proves it.” I file that information away for later — it seems important.  “No,” she continues, “I’m a… remnant, shall we say. A little bit of myself that was torn off five decades ago.”  She shakes her head before continuing, “I’m afraid that’s all I have to say on that matter. I can’t have you getting  _ too _ much information, after all.”

She has been rather forthcoming with information, and I have no idea why.  That sends me into a bit of a panic. I really wish Hermione was here. She was always better at this sort of thing.

Okay, what do I know?  I know she was possessing Ginny.  I know that the diary was involved.  I know she’s stronger now than she was earlier, so…

“You’re killing Ginny, aren’t you?”  I ask. “Sacrificing her to restore your own life?”

Tamelyn scowls.  “I should have known better than to trust that little whelp when she told me you were oblivious.  You’re figuring out more things than I’d care for you to know. I suppose that’s the price I pay for trying to buy time.”

“Make no mistake, Harry,” she says as she begins to pace around the room, “I have every intention of finishing what my core self failed to do, but I need answers first.  I need to know why I failed to kill you eleven years ago. You either tell me willingly, or I get the information from you forcibly. The second choice will  _ not _ be pleasant, so you can start talking.”

Aw crap.

“I… I don’t really know how.  Dumbledore said it was my mother’s sacrifice that saved me, but I’m not sure.”

Tamelyn’s scowl deepens.  “Secretive old codger. He always held information too close to himself even when I was at school.  I don’t believe what he told you was the truth, though. No, there has to have been something more.”  She levels my wand at me. “Everything Ginny has told me about you makes me think there’s something more.  She told me all about your little escapade last year where you met my core self and fought her off. There’s more to your survival than a simple act of “love” overcoming the killing curse.  Looks like I’ll have to take option two if I need answers.”

I try and back off, but a wave of magic passes over me and I feel my body freeze in place.  

Tamelyn grabs my face and wrenches it so we’re staring each other in my eye.  At her touch, my scar begins throbbing uncomfortably, but not painfully, a surprising contrast to last year’s “Quirrelmort” experience.

“Time to see what you really know.   _ Legili- _ ”

I brace myself for whatever spell she was casting, but nothing happens.  Her gaze is instead locked just above my eyes on my forehead. God knows I’ve had enough people staring up there in the past.

Riddle then starts laughing hysterically, much to my surprise.

“Oh, oh, this is too rich!  I can’t believe it!” She gasps out.

She levitates my body over to Ginny’s and begins using my wand to carve on the ground.

“There  _ is _ something special about you, Potter, and I would never have guessed it if I hadn’t touched you.  Looks like you won’t be dying today, and lucky you, you even get to rescue the girl. Well, technically,  _ I’ll _ be saving the girl, but I’m sure you can survive not getting the credit for once.”

Tamelyn turns to the relief of Slytherin’s face on the wall and hisses.

“ _ §Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four!§ _ ”

The sound of grinding stone fills the chamber, followed by a large slithering noise.

“ _ §When the magic in this room fades, eat this book.  When you are done with that, use your venom to destroy the runic circle on the ground.  There can be no evidence left behind.§ _ ”

I see Tamelyn point her wand at Ginny’s form.  I try and struggle against my paralysis, but remain powerless as she casts a spell I heard cast unsuccessfully less than an hour ago.

“ _ Obliviate. _ ”

Tamelyn moves back in between myself and Ginny.  She begins chanting unfamiliar words, the air around us growing saturated with power as she proceeds.  Once whatever ritual she was performing completes, my head feels like it’s being split open by my scar.  The pain fades quickly, and the last thing I hear before my consciousness fades entirely is Tamelyn’s voice echoing in the back of my head.

_ If I’d known this was an option, I would have done it in the first place. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** The world doesn’t have enough fem!Riddle or fem!Voldemort, let alone Harry/fem!Voldemort. This is my contribution to fixing that terrible problem.
> 
> Partial blame on the fic rests on TheEndless7 for introducing me to fem!Voldemort in Limpieza de Sangre. Full blame for this fic rests on all those who made me love the Harry/fem!Riddle pairing. Those would be t3t, author of Thunderstorm, Leyrann, author of The Advantages of Being Sane, Rikuriroxa, author of Power is Control and Gaining Power, and aelursadgod, author of Descent.
> 
> This fic will be darker than Scrambled Sorting, or at least, Scrambled Sorting as it as at the point of writing this note
> 
>  **UPDATE:** Cover art done by Kylee Nim


	2. Gaps

As awareness returns to me, my nostrils are immediately assaulted by the smell of antiseptic and my eyes reel from the blinding white light.

A small part of me can’t help but feel that I’m too young to recognise the hospital wing this readily.  This is, what, my fourth time here? Though the amount of time I spent here with Hermione while she’s been petrified probably helped burn the smell into my memory.

Why am I here, anyways?  The last thing I remember is going into the Chamber of Secrets.  Lockhart tried to wipe my memory, and then…

I don’t remember.

I know… something happened.  Something that was extremely important.  

…And I have absolutely no idea what it was.

Feeling less bleary-eyed, I grab my glasses from the bedside table and look around.  Most of the beds are still occupied by petrified students, with Hermione’s form occupying the bed to my right.  I stare across the aisle at the familiar orange hair splayed out on the pillow.

Ginny!

I went into the Chamber to rescue her, and she was there, and…

I still can’t remember the rest.

But she’s alive, right?  She’s got to be alive!

I try to pull myself out of bed, but stagger as the headrush hits me.

How long was I out, anyways?

I push those thoughts to the side as I rush over to Ginny’s bed.  I need to make sure that she’s okay.  

A shrill voice stops me before I can get there, though.

“Mister Potter!  What are you doing out of bed!?”

I know better than to get on Madam Pomfrey’s bad side, though I suspect the number of times I’ve needed medical attention has already landed me on said side.

“I just… I needed to make sure she’s okay.”

Her glare continues to rest on me.

“ _ She _ is fine.   _ You _ will not be if you don’t get back to bed before I can look you over!”

“Yes’m.” I mutter as I head back to my bed.

For a healer, she really is quite scary.

Madam Pomfrey begins waving her wand over my body in her usual diagnostic pattern.  I can vaguely make out her muttering about “strange residual magic, but nothing definitive”.  As Madam Pomfrey finishes her scans, Dumbledore walks in.

“Dumbledore?”  I ask. “You’re back?”

Dumbledore smiles, eyes twinkling.  “Indeed, Harry. It would seem that Lucius Malfoy had blackmailed the rest of the board into suspending me, but they decided to stand up to him.  So yes, I have been reinstated.”

That… doesn’t make me feel as happy as I would have expected.  I feel more annoyed about it than anything. Weird.

“Professor,” I ask, “what happened in the Chamber of Secrets?”

His expression grows solemn.  “I was hoping you could tell me that, Harry.  It was several hours after the cave-in occurred before young Mister Weasley was able to get help.  By the time the staff made it down to the Chamber, there were no signs of any perpetrator. You and Miss Weasley were lying in the centre of a ritual circle, though the whole thing had been burned apart by basilisk venom, preventing us from determining what its purpose may have been.  Can you tell me what you remember?”

“I… I don’t remember.  I know we needed to get down there to rescue Ginny.  Hermione left us a message that the monster was a basilisk, and the reason no one died was because no one had seen it directly.”

“Yes, it was a stroke of genius that allowed Miss Granger to determine the monster’s identity.  I suspect that her muggle upbringing makes it easier for her to shed preconceptions that those of us raised with magic would have.  Many would write off a basilisk as being the monster’s identity since no one had died, and not think to look further.”

Dumbledore was really getting on my nerves, and I had no idea why.  He was acting the same way he always had, so why was it bothering me so much

“After that, Lockhart used Ron’s wand to try and wipe our memories, but the spell backfired through Ron’s broken wand and it caved in the ceiling.  I kept walking until I made my way to the inner chamber. I remember seeing Ginny’s pale form lying on the ground and worrying that she was dead, and… that’s the last thing I can remember before waking up here.”

“That is indeed concerning.”  Dumbledore says. “Do you suspect that your memories may have been tampered with in the same way that Lockhart attempted?”

I shrug.  “No idea, professor.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I could try and check for any signs of such tampering.”  He explains. “It would require me to look around in your memories a bit, which is something I would rather not do without your permission.”

I don’t want that manipulative old bastard in my head!

...Damnit, why is he pissing me off so much?  Maybe it’s for the best that I let him take a look around.  Perhaps there’s something else wrong with me besides the fact that I can’t remember things.

“Uh, sure, just try not to look around too much.”

Dumbledore smiles, twinkle re-emerging in his eyes.  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Harry. Just maintain eye contact with me for a moment.”

I feel an odd sensation of something moving around in my head, in a bizarre, non-physical way.  After a moment, the sensation vanishes and Dumbledore steps back.

“There’s no sign of any conventional external tampering or memory charms.  It’s quite unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Miss Weasley has already checked positive for memory charms, though hers encompass a variety of events over the course of the whole year.  Whoever was responsible did a very good job covering their tracks, and I fear they may have truly eluded us. This is quite the Riddle we’re faced with.”

I feel a flash of recognition at the word “Riddle”, but it quickly fades back into annoyance.  I actually find myself surprisingly unconcerned that the culprit got away, too. I know Dumbledore said there was no sign of tampering, but I still feel like something’s not right in my head.  I consider mentioning it, but decide against it. That said, I do still have one concern…

“Professor, is the school still going to be closed?”

“Ah, well in that respect, we are lucky.”  He says, his smile returning. “The DMLE is currently in contact with a parseltongue-fluent cursebreaker in India.  They plan on entering the chamber and killing the basilisk. Assuming they are successful, which I have all confidence they will be, then the school will remain open.”

Well, there was that, at least.  Not being able to come back to Hogwarts would honestly be one of the worst things I could imagine.  I’m just glad it won’t come to pass.

“Well, I think that about concludes our business, Harry.  If anything comes to mind about what happened in the Chamber, anything at all, please let me know.”

Another tinge of annoyance runs through my head when he speaks.  I consider asking him about my weird anger, but…

_ No. _

A voice in the back of my head tells me that that is a very bad idea.

And really, it probably is.  So many problems could be avoided if Dumbledore was less afraid to take action.

 

* * *

 

The remainder of the term proceeds as normal, though several aurors are stationed around the school, monitoring for any potential activity from the basilisk or the return of the Heir.  The petrified students are restored with minimal fuss, much to my relief. It’s nice to be able to talk with Hermione again. I enjoy Ron’s company, but Hermione’s insightfulness can be really useful.

“So what’s bothering you, Harry?”  Hermione asks. “You’ve been brooding all week.”

I sigh.  “That’s part of the problem — I’m not sure what’s wrong.  I’ve been feeling really easily irritated — mostly by Dumbledore — ever since I went down to the Chamber.  I can’t remember what happened there, and even though Dumbledore said there were no signs of memory erasure, I feel like I’m missing something.  I can’t shake the feeling that something really important happened down there, and it affected me somehow.”

“Well,” Hermione begins, and I can already tell it’s going to be a rant, “Maybe you should try looking at the muggle side of things.   Dumbledore was likely only checking for magical signs of memory erasure, but there are plenty of mundane ways that could affect your memory, like a repressed memory that could have been a result of something traumatising happening to you.  I have plenty of books on the subject, and I could send you some over the summer if you’d like to look into that side of things, and perhaps seeing a therapist could help, although you may run into issues with that since you wouldn’t be able to talk about magic, but if you could figure out allegories for the stuff you deal with at school then it could work.”

I shake my head at her usual rambling.  It’s amazing how much one misses the small things about their friends when they’re not around.  Listening to one of Hermione’s heated rants is the most normal I have felt in months.

“Thanks, Hermione.  And thanks for listening.  Send me those books, if you can.”

A grin lights up her face at the prospect of getting other people to read.  Her passion for books is quite singular.

With that out of the way, I continue wandering around the castle before returning to the common room.  Since it’s currently in that midday period between lunch and dinner, most people are out and about, leaving the common room mostly empty.  One figure, though, catches my attention.

Ginny Weasley is sitting by herself in the corner, eyes unfocused.  It’s clear that this has affected her worse than it affected me.

“Hey,” I say as I sit down next to her, “Is everything okay?”

She gets the same wide-eyed and nervous look she had when I first went to the Burrow this summer.  At first, I think that her schoolgirl crush is going to win out, but she eventually averts her eyes and shakes her head.

“Do… Do you want to talk about it?  I can’t remember anything that happened down in the Chamber either.  Maybe talking to each other about it will help?”

Ginny mutters something under her breath that I don’t catch.

“I’m sorry, what?  I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said ‘at least you only forgot what happened in the Chamber’.”  She huffs “Whoever erased my memory took out whole chunks from the past year.  I remember that I was isolating myself from everyone but I don’t know why. I remember being consumed with dread but not over what.  I remember feeling so alone and empty without any reason why. Even now, I still feel alone and empty even with my family doing their best to offer their support.  My memory is filled with gaps and it feels like a part of me is missing.”

“Oh.” I say, struck by just how badly she’s taking this.  “Is there any chance of recovering your memories?”

She shakes her head again.  “According to the mind healer I’m seeing, whoever did it was good.  Apparently, faulty memory charms can be reversed and even a well-executed conventional memory charm can be undone with some extra effort, but this one scrubbed them clean from my head with no remnants.  There’s no chance of recovering them.”

“That sucks.  I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks.  And I’m sorry, too.  I shouldn’t have bothered you with my stupid crush this year.”   She gives me a small smile, but I can see that there’s no emotion behind it.

Ginny gets up and leaves without saying anything while I ponder her words.  I don’t think I’d realised just how hard it was for her, or how much of her memory was erased.  Whatever issues I’m dealing with pale in comparison to hers.

 

* * *

 

The remainder of the year passes in a blur.  I beg Dumbledore not to send me back to my relatives again, and he refuses again.  Exams pass without fuss, though the answers to the written questions come to me more easily than I’d expect.  The practical components of the tests are even easier than last year, despite the advancement of the content.

The ride on the Hogwarts express passes as normal, though the mood is less jubilant than last year, since no one knows if the school will actually stay open until after the aurors try and kill the basilisk.  Hermione is blustering about exams, as usual, while Ron is looking like he would rather be talking about anything but exams, also as usual.

Everything happens as it should, at least until that evening when I get back.  After Vernon finishes locking my school supplies in my old cupboard, I move up to my room just to avoid their company for as long as I can manage.  It’s only after I shut the door and lie down that I hear a feminine voice echo in the back of my mind.

_ Good, you’re finally alone and out of the old goat’s hair.  I was starting to feel stir-crazy in my isolation. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** Obliviation is fucked up, huh?


	3. Voice

I try and quash the panic I feel rising in my chest.

Okay, so there was a distinctly female voice echoing around in my head.  That would be fine, right?  Everything is fine.

I try very hard to push the words Hermione said to me last year out of my head.

“Even in the wizarding world, hearing voices isn't a good sign.”

Crap.

_Look, Potter, as much as I would **love** to listen to you panic about my presence, I don’t have the time or patience to listen to your bullshit._

Er…

_Well, technically, I have the time, but I sure as hell do not have the patience.  Now if  you don’t mind, I’m going to unlock your memories to save myself from having to explain the stuff you already know._

Wait, locked memories?  Is that why I couldn’t remember what happened in the-

A rush of information runs that thought into the ground.  Everything feels like it hits me at once.

Tamelyn Riddle.

The future Dark Lady and scourge of wizarding britain is inside my head, and she can apparently control my memories.

I react to this information with all of the emotional maturity that one could expect from a stunted not-yet thirteen year old.

Which is to say, none at all.

Oh, sure, on the outside, I’m calm, but I am seriously freaking out inside.

Unfortunately, Riddle is also inside, and she reacts to my panic by sending a wave of pain through my body.

If I wasn’t collapsed on the ground in pain, I probably would have wondered how she managed that.

_Are you listening now?  Much as it pains me to admit it, I need your help.  Or rather, your help would make this miserable situation easier for both of is.  So, you either swear a magical oath not to reveal my existence of any of my secrets, or I lock your memories back up and you get to work yourself into a tizzy trying to figure out why your have blocked memories and why you keep feeling emotions that aren’t yours._

Emotions that aren’t mine…  Wait, is she why I kept getting mad at Dumbledore?

_Yes I was.  I don’t trust that bearded bastard, and I decided that letting you feel my distrust might help you see past the rose tinted lenses you’ve viewed him with.  Once you stop seeing him as an infallible leader of the light, it’s easy to see a much less pretty picture of the man’s actions._

I...really don’t like the idea of taking an oath to a future Dark Lady, let alone someone who’s so opposed to Dumbledore.  I also really don’t like the idea of having my memories blocked off.

_If it helps you decide, then you should know that I can also possess you.  I can’t do it nonstop, and I can’t make an oath bind **your** actions, but at least if you take the oath, you’ll know who’s possessing you when I need to do it.  Surely, you’d prefer a known evil to an unknown one?_

That does tip the scales, though I now find myself even more horrified at my situation.

She is right, though.  I’d prefer to at least _know_ what’s going on, even if it’s not good.

_Good.  Now grab your wand and repeat after me…_

I still hate everything about this.

“I, Harry James Potter, do vow upon my life to not willingly share, hint at, direct others to, or in any way allude to any of the secrets or knowledge held by Tamelyn Merope Riddle.  As magic is my witness.”

I feel something… shift, for lack of a better word, deep inside me as my wand flashes with light.  I really hope this doesn’t trigger as magic use at the ministry.  I already got one warning last year thanks to Dobby.

_Don’t be ridiculous.  I removed the trace from your wand back in the chamber.   It was one of the first things I did in your body after I fused my soul to yours._

The former bit of info is interesting.  The latter bit is something that I really don’t like her glossing over.

I mean, she did _what?_

_Yes, I was quite surprised.  There was a tiny fragment of my soul in your scar.  I just merged with the fragment that was already there, then used my own, far greater power to try and finish the possession it kept trying to start.  Unfortunately for me, it didn’t work.  And now I’m stuck here.  I don’t fancy being in your head forever, and I wasn’t able to complete the possession on you thanks to some weird ward woven around your soul.  As so, if you cooperate and help me get a body, then I promise not to kill you afterwards.  Deal?_

Is that my mum’s protection that Dumbledore always talks about?  That aside, there is no way I’m making a deal with her.  Absolutely not.  I don’t trust her.  At all.

_Oh for the love of…  Speak to me directly!  None of this third-person shit!_

‘Um… Hi?’

_Hi.  You don’t trust me.  That’s sensible.  Trust is a weakness, and I don’t trust you, either.  I believe you will act in your own self-interest, just as I act in mine.  I only revealed myself to you because you have some misguided hero complex, and it keeps getting you nearly killed.  I’d rather not find out what happens if you die while I’m connected to you.  Oh, and don’t go getting a martyrdom complex.  Core-me is still out there, and your death would ultimately mean nothing but removing an obstacle._

‘Core-you is insane, and you probably are too!  You murdered countless people!  You snuck a mountain troll into a school as a distraction!  You killed my parents!  You advocated for the genocide of muggles and muggleborns!’

_Don’t pin the actions of my Core self on me.  I only killed **one** person, and it was an accident.  I don’t know her reasons for the slaughter she did or why she tried to kill you and your parents.  I will tell you this, though: I always used blood purity as an excuse to control others.  I never cared about it.  I do hate muggles, though.  Core-me is probably performing a very intricate act in order to make her opponents believe she’s insane to make them underestimate her._

‘I don’t believe it.’

_And you don’t have to.  Like I said, trust is for fools.  But for now, thanks to poor choices on both of our parts, We’re stuck together.  You don’t betray me and I don’t betray you.  Deal?_

I hate this.  I hate every part of this.  Even if I do help her get a body, I don’t trust her not to kill me when she’s done.

_Good.  That’s very shrewd of you.  You swore an oath to me, so let me return the favour…_

I feel Tamelyn’s… presence move to the front of my mind while I find my own presence forced to the back.  My body starts moving on its own, presumably under Tamelyn’s influence, and my wand arm lifts into the same position it was when I swore my oath.  My own voice then speaks.

“I, Tamelyn Merope Riddle, swear on my life to not knowingly bring any lasting or mortal harm to Harry James Potter.  As magic is my witness.”

There’s another flash of magic, though I don’t feel anything shift inside me.  Presumably because I wasn’t the one who swore the oath, this time.

‘Only lasting or mortal harm?’

_It may become necessary for us to do unpleasant things to get me into a body of my own.  I have some ideas, but it will take a lot of research.  Also, pain is a good deterrent if you start acting stupid.  I’d hate to prevent myself from doing that again._

‘Great.  You really are a psycho, aren’t you?’

_I’ve been called worse.  Now, I will need your help to get a body.  You do that, then I talk to my core self and get her to leave you alone.  Do we have a deal?_

I really wish we didn’t, but I can’t deny the appeal of getting Voldemort off of my back for good.  I only hope the cost doesn’t end up being too high…

‘Deal.’

 

* * *

 

The damp expanses of the Chamber of Secrets surround me.  My heart pounds in my ears as I run down the putrid corridor.  The stone snakes guarding the central chamber lash out at my as I run past them, scraping and cutting my arms in the process.  The central chamber is enormous, yet feels suffocating.  I run over to Ginny’s body, pale and bloodied and unbreathing.  As I sob over her form, a terrifying, monstrous slithering sound echoes through the room.  I stare up at the massive form of the basilisk, black scales shimmering in an iridescent green, and eyes a sickly yellow colour.  As I brace myself for death, a voice sounds from behind me.

“Seriously, Potter?”

I whirl around to see Riddle sitting nonchalantly on the arm of a rather plush-looking chair.

“I mean, seriously, you’re having nightmares about facing a beast that you never even saw?”

“I, er…  How do you have a body?”

“You’re asleep and dreaming.  For now, we are sharing a mind and body, and as such, I get to be here.  Now why are you having nightmares about a creature you never saw, let alone fought?”

“Because it’s a huge and terrifying snake that could kill me more easily than anything?”

Riddle shakes her head.  “Honestly, Tessie shouldn’t even be a direct threat to you.” She says as she jumps off of the chair.  “You think Salazar would put a beast in his chamber that would kill his heirs with a passing glance or a drop of venom?  As a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, you’re immune to both the basilisk’s gaze and poison.”

“Wait, what?  You mean I was never in any danger at all?”

“Of course you were in danger.  Even if you can’t be poisoned by the basilisk’s bite, their fangs are incredibly long and sharp, and more than capable of killing someone simply through a good stabbing.  Besides which, I was there, and I certainly would have tried to kill you if I hadn’t discovered the piece of my own soul inside you.  I’m not fond of leaving witnesses, after all.”

“You’re a terrible person.” I spit out. “And I’m not descended from Slytherin.”

“Yes, I am a terrible person, and you are most definitely descended from Slytherin, just as I am.  We’re both parselmouths, and we both have his eyes.” She gestures to her own vibrant green eyes, the same shade that I see every day in the mirror.

“I’ve been told I have my mum’s eyes…”

“She was probably a descendant of a squib line that regained magic.  Most so-called ‘muggleborns’ have squibs in their ancestry somewhere.  Now then… _§Come here, Tessie!§_ ”

The basilisk’s huge form leans down to Riddle.  Riddle begins rubbing its scales and making cutesy hisses at it.

“ _§Who’s a good snake?  You are!§_ ”

The basilisk begins emitting a deep vibration, almost like a cat’s purring.  I guess the fact that I’m already asleep is why I don’t feel awake enough to deal with this.

 

* * *

 

Having a constant mental companion, psychopathic as she may be, does help the summer pass along faster.

Just because it passes faster doesn’t mean that it’s any less unbearable, though.

_Kill him._

She says that every time I see Uncle Vernon.

‘And once again, my response is “No”.’

_I have provided you with a traceless wand, and you refuse to use it to exact revenge on the people who have tormented you for years.  Why would you pass up such an opportunity for revenge?_

‘Because I don’t hate them!  Because they may have never loved me, but they weren’t awful!’

_You can’t shield your memories from me, you know.  Maybe you’ve done your best to forget, but I can see everything in your head.  Let me remind you…_

Memories rush through my head.  Uncle Vernon was rarely physical in his abuse, but accidental magic was an exception.  I’m forced to feel the pain on my back as Uncle Vernon lashed at it with his belt, screaming at me for bringing “that freakishness” into his house.  I’m reminded of the constant hunger pangs that tormented me every time I was locked in my cupboard for some perceived slight.  I nearly choke up once she starts pulling up my memories of feeling totally unwanted throughout most of my life.

_These people are responsible for most of your pain.  Killing them would be justice, wouldn’t it?_

‘No.’ I manage to think back, though my resolve is much weaker.

_Really, Dumbledore sends you back here each year, and you wonder why I don’t trust him._

‘My issues are no concern of yours.’

_That’s where you’re wrong.  For one, I am stuck here, inside your head, probably for a few years.  Your issues are every concern of mine.  And two, do you think you’re the first kid Dumbledore didn’t care about?  That coot was convinced I was dark from the moment he met me.  Every summer, no matter how much I begged, he sent me back.  He sent me back to a place where I was not only unwanted and unloved, but hated and constantly in danger!  Every!  Single!  Summer!  You want to know why I hate him?  I hate him because he’s a fool who is so wrapped up in his preconceived notions of good and evil that he lets those who need help suffer!  Why wouldn’t I hate someone like that?  He didn’t even bother to learn from the mistakes he made with me!  Here I find that five decades later, he once again shoved a magical child into an unloving environment, and once again, refused to get them out of there when they ask!_

I try and block out her words, but I can’t help but think that if what she says about her life is true, then we really are more similar than I feel comfortable admitting.

I glare at Vernon as he passes by me again.  I still refuse to kill him, but my refusal feel less vindicating than it did before.

This is going to be a long summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** Unlike in HPSS, magical oaths do exist, though I changed how they work from most fanon.
> 
> A magical oath only determines future actions. You can’t swear you didn’t do something, as the oath only enforces itself for actions performed after the oath was sworn.
> 
> An oath cannot be sworn by oneself. An oath must be sworn to another person, relating to that person. The person the oath is sworn to is capable of releasing them from that oath. It’s essentially an unbreakable vow in which only one person is bound. An unbreakable vow allows both parties to have their actions bound, so it’s usually used for a mutual exchange of biding conditions, since if one person rejects one of the conditions in an unbreakable vow, the whole vow fails to form.
> 
> Also, for those of you wondering if this will be a manipulative!evil!Dumbledore fic, I urge you to remember that Tammie is far from unbiased where Dumbledore is concerned.


	4. Message

Two weeks into the summer, a letter arrives from Ron with an attached copy of  _ The Daily Prophet _ .  Apparently, his family won the newspaper’s grand prize draw, and went on a trip to Egypt to visit Bill, Ron’s eldest brother.  The attached copy of the newspaper has a picture of his family as they receive their winnings, for which Ron brought along Scabbers.  I have no idea why he is so fond of that rat, really…

My attention is not held by that article, though.  My attention is on the front page article, showing several aurors around the corpse of an enormous snake.  The headline reads 

**Aurors Kill Millenium-old Basilisk in Hidden Hogwarts Chamber!**

I find myself feeling surprisingly morose at this, and it takes me a while to realise that the emotion I’m feeling isn’t my own.

‘I assume you’re sad about your pet killer snake dying?’

_ So what if I am?  You had as much claim to that snake as I did, being a fellow heir.  Shouldn’t you be sorrowful at the potential loss of such a powerful symbol of your heritage? _

‘I’m not really attached to the fact that my mum was descended from a man who hated muggleborns, you know, nor am I sad to see the death of something used to “defend the school from their influence”.’

_ Slytherin didn’t hate muggleborns any more than I did.  That’s just a slanderous rumour. _

‘If you don’t hate muggleborns, then why were you petrifying them all year?’

_ I was trying to kill them, technically.  Ginny began to suspect that she was causing the petrifications, and if she thought she was responsible for someone’s death, then her grief would have made it easier for me to absorb her soul to resurrect myself.  Pureblood students would have been poor targets because their parents would have made a ruckus if any of their precious heirs died. Muggle parents have almost no say in what goes on at Hogwarts and no power for restitution.  The muggleborns were simply convenient targets. _

‘I don’t know if I should be more disturbed by the lack of power muggle parents have over their magical children, or your cavalier attitude for murder.’

_ I would really rather not kill any magicals, but I was short on options at the time.  It all worked out in the end, though, right? _

A long silence draws out between us.

_ I hope Tessie’s okay… _

‘What part of “dead” wasn’t clear to you?’

_ Listen, Potter, I love that snake, and I was inside your head when Dumbledore told you what the plan to kill her was.  Did you really think I’d let her stay there unguarded with no plan? _

I feel my gut twist at the realisation that the act of simply hearing information gave Tamelyn the means to protect what could easily be her most dangerous weapon.

_ Oh, please.  As if I wouldn’t go out of my way to make sure she’s safe.  She’s the only one I’ve ever been able to call a friend. She listened to all of my issues back in Hogwarts when my pompous pureblood classmates were being arseholes to me.  Wouldn’t you do the same to protect your owl? _

‘My owl can’t kill people with a look!’

_ And that’s why a basilisk is a much better familiar.  They can protect themselves far better.   _

‘So what did you do to ensure her safety?’

_ I possessed you one night while you slept and snuck down there using your cloak.  Then, I used her shed skin and some blood, tooth, and bone from her to make a basilisk construct duplicate.  I’m not sure if it worked though. The construct may not be good enough to fool aurors, and if they used a rooster crow to kill the construct, then the chamber’s inner sanctum may not have been well-protected enough to keep her safe…  I would have preferred to just tell her to flee, but without a body, they probably wouldn’t have closed down Hogwarts, and I couldn’t do that to the first place I considered a home. _

‘What’s the inner sanctum?’

_ It’s the innermost and most guarded area of the chamber, and it’s protected by blood wards.  Only someone with the blood of Slytherin can open them. The fact that your blood could open them is how I knew you were one of his descendants.  The sanctum itself is a well-furnished living space that holds several artefacts of historical importance, such as several of Salzazar’s personal journals.  If we can manage to sneak down there, then you should give them a read. _

Tamelyn stops talking then, but her feelings of worry and sadness continue to bleed through to me.  It’s bizarre to think of someone who is by all accounts a ruthless tyrant feeling so morose.

Wait a minute… 

‘How did you know about my cloak?’

_ Oh, I can peruse your memories at my leisure.  Your lack of occlumency barriers make it very easy. _

I make a mental note to have Hermione look up “occlumency” for me at the earliest opportunity.

 

* * *

 

A week after that, another letter arrives, this one from Hogwarts..

‘That’s weird.  I thought these things came two weeks before the semester started?’

_ If that was your actual Hogwarts letter, then yes, you’d be right.  However, since you’re starting your third year, that envelope contains an elective selection form and a Hogsmeade permission slip. _

I open the envelope, confirming that she is indeed correct.  As I mull over the options for electives, Tamelyn makes her thoughts known.

_ Take Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. _

‘Why?’

_ Because I took Runes and Arithmancy classes in school.  I am already going to be forced to sit through the third year curriculum again.  It would be foolish of me to not take the chance to learn something new. Also, it would stop the whole year from being a complete repeat for me.  I’d rather not be bored out of your skull the whole year. _

‘If it was possible to bore you out of my skull, then maybe I could be rid of you.’

_ Oh, ha ha. _

‘Besides, what about the classes  _ I _ want to take?  I was really interested in taking Ancient Runes…’

_ If you want credit for Ancient Runes, just take the O.W.L. for it in your fifth year.  I know the subject well enough, so I can easily feed you the answers. Either way, you’re taking Divination and Care of Magical Creatures.  I refuse to be any more bored than I have to be. _

‘If you want to take new classes, why not Muggle Studies?’

_ I’m going to pretend you never said that.  I learned plenty about the muggle world firsthand, and none of it is good. _

‘You were raised in the muggle world, weren’t you?  Why do you hate them so much?’

_ Because I lived with them, I was forced to see all of their worst traits.  They are foul creatures that care only for themselves and their petty desires.  They would destroy anything and everything to get what they want. They fear anything different from themselves. _

‘Your experiences with muggles are not universal.’

_ No.  But they’re quite similar to yours, aren’t they, Harry? _

…Fine.  So, moving on, what about the permission slip?  I doubt Vernon would do anything that might result in me being happy.’

_ Oh, that one’s easy.  Hang on, I’m going to take control for a bit. _

‘Wait, what?’

My body begins moving on its own.  Tamelyn grabs my wand from my nightstand and walks downstairs to where Vernon is watching TV.

_ Good, he’s alone.  That will make this easier. _

My wand points towards him as Tamelyn casts a spell.

“ _ Imperio. _ ”

Vernon’s eyes glaze over for a second as the curse hits.  An unfamiliar euphoric rush runs through my body.

‘What the hell was that?’

_ Dark magic euphoria.  The stuff’s addictive for a reason. _

“Sign this.” Tamelyn speaks out through my voice.

Vernon grabs a pen from his pocket, signs the form, hands it back, and goes back to watching the telly.  Once his back is turned, Tamelyn casts again.

“ _ Obliviate. _ ”

‘Was the memory wipe really necessary?’

_ Absolutely.  The use of the imperius curse carries a life sentence in Azkaban.  As I said before, I don’t like leaving witnesses. _

‘…I can’t believe that you used a dark curse to get my uncle to sign a form.’

_ The easiest answer to a problem is usually the simplest.  The imperius curse is extremely strong, and as a muggle, he has no internal magic to even attempt to fight against it.  Same thing with a memory wipe. As a muggle, a well-performed obliviation can’t even be detected, let alone reversed. Repeated obliviations can cause brain damage, but from what I’ve seen of your uncle, that would probably be an improvement. _

I know that she’s not at all joking, and that I should be admonishing her for making such remarks, but I can’t help but laugh.  I suppose having a Dark Lady in one’s head would naturally lead to a more morbid sense of humour.

 

* * *

 

_ Wait, go back, I need to hear that again. _

I’m surprised Tamelyn wants me to go back into the room where Vernon’s watching TV, given her vehement attitude towards the admittedly despicable man.

‘Um, sure, I guess.’

The newcaster’s voice comes back into focus as I sneak back into the room, careful to avoid Vernon’s attention.

“Once again, Sirius Black, mass murderer, has escaped from prison.  He is to be considered armed and dangerous, and authorities are urging anyone who sees him to not engage and contact them immediately.”

The newscaster continues talking, but I can’t make him out over Tamelyn’s thoughts echoing in my head.

_ Huh.  Looks like a wizard broke out of Azkaban and the Ministry is desperate enough to look to the muggles for help. _

‘This Sirius Black guy is a wizard?’

_ His last name is “Black” and his first name is astrological.  If that’s not a clear sign of being a member of the Black family, I don’t know what is. _

‘Sirius is the name of a constellation, then?’

_ A star, actually.  Don’t you pay attention in Astronomy class? _

‘Uh… Kind of?’

_ …Okay, that’s being fixed this year.  I refuse to have bad grades, even if it’s only by proxy through you.  You are going to apply yourself this year, and if you get anything less than straight O’s, I will have a lot of fun trying to find a way to torture you without harming myself in the process. _

‘Great, thanks.  Glad to know that I’m getting academic help under the threat of torture.’

_ You’re welcome.   Now, I wonder if there’s a way to contact Mister Black…  The Black family were notorious blood purists, so he’s probably a follower of mine who escaped from Azkaban.  If we can contact him, he may be able to use him to get a message to Core-me, who should hopefully back off from her crusade against you once she knows I’m involved. _

‘Wait, you don’t even know if he’s a follower of yours?’

_ I was in a book for five decades!  Of course I don’t know what’s going on!  My knowledge of current events is limited to what I was able to glean from Ginny last year! _

‘What about the piece of your soul what was in my scar?  That was part of Core-you for much longer, so shouldn’t you have memories from up until you tried to kill me?’

_ …No.  That is not at all how this works.  Soul shards don’t implicitly have memories.  They don’t have memories, intelligence, or anything beyond basic awareness and self-preservation unless otherwise modified.  It makes sense when your think about it, really. Souls aren’t fractal. A part of the soul does not contain a representation of the complete soul, so any memories that the soul shard contains are memories that the core self would be lacking.  So if the shard in your scar had memories up until Core-me killed you, then Core-me would be an amnesiac. I’ve seen your memory of the end of your first year, so I know for a fact that Core-me is not an amnesiac. _

‘Wait, if souls don’t have memories, then what about you?’

_ I’m special. _

‘How so?’

_ That Diary was more than just a vessel to store me in.  It was a modified pensieve filled with copies of all of my memories up to its creation, and a smattering of memories extending from then to the summer after my graduation.  I was given fifty years to soak them into myself and become a duplicate of what I was like as a teenager. _

‘What’s a pensieve?’

_ A magical artifact used to store and view memories.  My diary was an improved model of my own creation that was designed to be able to hold much more than the average stone basin design.  It was originally going to be my NEWT project for Ancient Runes before I decided it would be better used to house a portion of my soul.  It was also the only artifact I had on me at the time of Myrtle’s death, and it would have been a shame to waste a perfectly good killing. _

I let that last comment slide.  I don’t know if her nonchalance about killing is wearing off on me, or if I just don’t feel like wasting energy on being indignant at her anymore.

 

* * *

 

Tamelyn’s constant banter becomes a comfortable presence in my life as my birthday arrives.  Growing used to her is probably bad, but given a choice between getting used to her and going insane, I’ll readily pick the former.

“Boy.”  Vernon’s gruff voice speaks.

I turn to face him.  He’s been ignoring me most of the summer, much to my gratitude.  Most likely because Tamelyn’s anger keeps making me give him death glares, and because she keeps obliviating him if he demands too much of me.  Probably mostly the latter, come to think of it.

“Marge is coming over tomorrow.  She’ll be staying for a week. We expect you to be on your best behaviour or there  _ will _ be consequences.  Am I clear?”

I do my best to clamp down the rage Tamelyn feels at being spoken down to by a  _ filthy muggle _ .  

“Crystal, uncle.”

Vernon seems suitably off-put by the coldness of my response, so I consider this interaction a success.

_ I still say you should kill him. _

‘Shut up.’

 

* * *

 

_ Kill her _ .

‘No.’

“This one’s got a mean, runty look about him.”  Marge gestures in my direction. “You get that with dogs.”

_ She is awful.  The world would be better without her.  Kill her. _

‘No!’

“It all comes down to blood, you know.  Bad blood just isn’t something someone like him can escape from.”

_ She is a foul being with no magic!  She has the  _ **_gall_ ** _ to insult a heritage that is far grander than hers!  She will not recognise your superiority unless it is shown to her through force!  Kill her! _

‘NO!’

“Are you even listening, boy?”

_ KILL HER! _

“NO!”  I shout out, my attempts to hold our combined rage in failing.

Marge begins speaking to Vernon and Petunia once more.  “See what I mean? He’s rude and disrespectful, and has no sense of who his betters are.”

_ If you won’t kill her, THEN I WILL! _

‘What!?  No!’

I’m shoved out of control of my body before I have a chance to do anything.

“I’ll show you ‘betters’.”  My voice speaks out as Tamelyn pulls my wand from my pocket.

“You can’t-” Petunia starts to shriek before Tamelyn stops them all.

“ _ Immobulus Maxima. _ ”  A large, blue wave erupts from my wand, freezing everyone in the room, myself excluded.

“You,” Tamelyn points my wand at Marge’s terrified eyes, “are a foul and miserable excuse for a human being.  I’m not giving you the good grace of a second chance. Farewell, and know the world is better for your absence.   _ Finite Incantatem.  Arresto Cardia. _ ”

Just after the immobilisation is cancelled, Marge begins clutching at her heart and pounding at her chest, her face growing blue as the oxygen fades from her blood.  Once her struggling stops and her body stills, Tamelyn turns my body to face the Dursleys.

“I can’t have you tattling on me, now can I?   _ Finite Incantatem.  Magna Stupefy. Obliviate. _ ”

The Dursleys slump to the ground as Tamelyn starts walking upstairs.

‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

_ Oh, don’t you dare.  I refuse to have to taste your dinner coming back up just because you’re too weak to relish in the sensation of watching your foes die at your feet.  Besides, I can feel that deep down, you enjoyed it. _

‘I am not weak.’

_ Yes you are.  But you don’t have to be.  I used to be weak, you know, but I grew past it, just as you can.  You let people push you around because your pitiful relatives would punish you if you pushed back.  Let me tell you this, since no one else has: you’re better than them. _

‘I refuse to believe that I am better than muggles just because I have magic.’

_ Keep telling yourself that lie.  See if you continue to believe it. _

‘…There was no rush when you killed her.’

_ Of course there wasn’t.  Cardiac arrest is a medical spell, not a dark curse.  It’s used in precision healing procedures, though it, like many other “mundane spells”, can kill if used properly.  Getting a taste for dark magic after only a single use, Potter? _

I don’t reply.  I don’t trust myself to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** I did say this fic was going to be dark. Just barely thirteen, and he’s already committed his first murder, even if it’s only by proxy.
> 
> Tammie is both an enthralling and challenging character to write. It’s difficult to strike the balance between making her a terrible person yet still engaging.
> 
> The Magna Stupefy, or “Area Stunner”, was borrowed from DP&SW


	5. Escape

‘I can’t believe you killed my aunt.’

_ I can’t believe you care.  How many times did she sic that awful dog of hers on you?  I would have preferred to make her death a lot more painful, but anything more complicated would have left a much more obvious magical signature.  There’s no point in murdering someone if you get arrested for it. _

‘You shouldn’t kill people at all!’

_ That has got to be the worst argument I’ve ever heard.  You can’t always find a peaceful solution. Oftentimes, force must be met with force. _

‘You’re terrible.’

_ So you’ve told me. _

“Boy!”  Vernon’s gruff voice shouts out.  “Get down here!”

I walk down the stairs to see Vernon and Dudley dressed in black suits, with Petunia wearing a black dress.

“Yes, uncle?”

“We’re going to Marge’s funeral.  Stay here, and make sure the place is spotless when we get back.  Anything less than that, and you won’t get any food for a week, you hear?”

“Of course, uncle.”

“Good, then we’re off.  Break anything while we’re gone and starving will be the least of your worries.”

As I hear the sound of the car’s engine fade into the distance, Tamelyn speaks up.

_ Good.  Let’s get out of here. _   


‘Wait, what?’

_ Your awful muggle relatives have left you here alone.  We will grasp this opportunity to leave this sterile hovel that they call a home. _

‘And go where?’

_ Diagon, probably.  Tom doesn’t care much if you’re underage when it comes to room renting. _

‘What about the house?  They’ll be beyond mad if I don’t clean it, and they’ll make me face the music for not doing so eventually, even if they have to wait all year to do so.’

_ Oh that’s easy.  Let me just grab your wand… _

Tamelyn begins moving my wand through the motions for a spell, but I also feel a powerful flowing sensation throughout my body as she does so.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

_ Overcharging the spell.  Now shut up and let me concentrate. _

The flowing sensation is replaced with a feeling of building pressure, and just as it feels like it’s about to reach its peak, Tamelyn casts the spell.

“ _ Tergeo! _ ”

A shockwave is released from my body as the spell is cast, nearly knocking me over in the process.

‘What the hell was that?’

_ An overcharged cleaning spell.  That was way stronger than it should have been, though.  I should have compensated for the fact that our cores are partially combined, what with the “fused soul” bullshit.  Between that and the above average size of our cores, the weakness of your body is currently the chokepoint for your casting.  You may want to fix that. _

‘What the hell is a core?’

_ …I am half tempted to let you have a look through some of my memories just so you’ll stop being so uneducated.  Now come on, we’ve lost enough time arguing. _

Tamelyn retrieves my belongings from under the stairs with a simple alohomora, and releases Hedwig from her cage, telling her to meet us at the Leaky Cauldron.

‘I’m embarrassed that I never thought to do that.’

_ Good, you should be. _

As she shrinks and pockets my trunk, a question occurs to me.

‘How are we getting to London, anyways?’

_ The Knight Bus. _

‘The what?’

_ …I refuse to explain the thousandth thing that you should have known about by now.  Now shut up and let’s go. _

Wand in hand, Tamelyn begins walking my body out the door.  Before she can do… whatever it is that she needs to do to call the bus, a large black dog comes out of the bushes in Number 6’s yard.

‘A dog?  I’ve never-’

_ Grim!  Run! _

‘What?’

Tamelyn runs to the roadside and sticks my wand in the air.  With a loud “Bang!”, a triple-decker, vibrantly purple bus pulls up out of thin air.  The greasy teenager at the back begins reading from a card.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus.  Your transportation for-”

“Don’t care!  Leaky Cauldron!  Now!”

Tamelyn shoves a handful of sickles at the teen, and runs to a seat in the middle of the bus.  I take a glance back to the dog, and see it sitting forlornly at the side of the road where I took off.

‘Why did you freak out like that?’

_ That was a bloody grim, Potter!  An omen of death!  _ **_I don’t want to die!_ ** _   That was the whole point of splitting my soul! _

‘Hold on, you split your soul?’

_ I did say there was a part of my soul in your scar. _

‘I assumed that was an accident!’

_ It probably was.  The soul fragment was improperly bound, and it’s honestly a miracle that it never became dislodged before.  The other splits were intentional, though. _

‘You…  _ deliberately _ split your soul so you wouldn’t die?   _ Multiple times!? _ ’

_ It was a reasonable price to pay, though it did suck for this part of me, specifically.  Being stuck in a diary was dreadfully boring, even if I had a limited sense of the passage of time for most of it. _

My mind reels at the extent she was willing to go to, all in the name of avoiding death.

‘Was it worth it?’

_ I’m not dead yet, so I’m inclined to say “yes”. _

‘…I would say “you’re terrible” again, but I think we’re both getting tired of that line.’

_ Glad to see you’re sparing my feelings.  Now shut up and let me enjoy the ride. I’ve always found the Knight Bus to be pleasantly exhilarating. _

Adding that as another point on my ever growing list of why my mental hitchhiker is insane, I do my best to avoid being bruised by the reckless careening of “Ern”, the bus’s driver.  Despite my own disagreements with the manner of transport, I feel continual waves of contentment coming from Tamelyn, and, much as I hate to admit it, I do eventually find it relaxing, if only by proxy.

_ …I think I overdid it when I possessed you back there.  I was doing way too much while in control, and you were awake, which tends to make it harder.  Overcharging that spell was a huge mistake, though. It’s exhausting enough overpowering that ward on your soul without adding high-stress magic into the equation. _

‘Are you okay?’

_ ‘M fine.  Just gonna doze off for a bit. _

‘How does that even work, anyways?  How can you fall asleep without my body falling asleep, too?’

_ … _

‘Hello?’

_ … _

Huh.  I guess she did manage it.  Magic is weird.

The conductor evidently grew bored of standing around, so he comes up and starts a conversation with me.

“Whadid ‘choo say ‘choo name was, again?”  He asks.

“I didn’t.”  I reply tersely.

He fails to take my silence as a signal that I don’t want to keep speaking with him, so when I don’t offer my name, he asks.

“Well, whas ‘choo name, then?”

No way am I giving this guy my real name.  “Riddle.” I reply, giving the first name I can think of that isn’t publicly connected to me.  Tamelyn probably won’t mind. I hope.

“‘Choo godda firs’ name?”  He asks, still not taking the hint.

“Tom.”  I reply, immediately going for the last name Tamelyn told me — that of the Leaky Cauldron barkeeper.

“‘S a pretty normal name you got.”  He replies.

“I’m well aware.”  Can’t this guy take a hint?

“You kinda look like ‘Arry Potter.”

Goddamnit!  “I get that a lot.”

Much to my relief, he leaves the seat next to me and begins meandering around the bus, somehow managing to keep his balance in the process.

 

* * *

 

Tamelyn’s still “asleep” when we arrive at the dingy pub in downtown London, so I’m left to handle getting a room on my own.  It’s a rather bizarre sensation, having my “passenger” sleep. On one level, I appreciate the rare silence, but on another, I almost find myself missing her.

…That has kind of disturbing implications, honestly.

Pushing my thoughts about my newfound and uncharacteristic affection for the junior Dark Lady in my head aside, I approach the barman.

“Hello, Mister Potter,” he greets me, “what can I do for you today?”

“Hello, Tom.”  I say, trying to act as though I didn’t just use his name to get a weirdo off my back.  “I need to rent a room until the morning of September first.”

Tom raises an eyebrow at that.  “That’s just shy of four weeks, Mister Potter.  Are your guardians all right with you being on your own for so long?”

“Yes.”  I reply.  It’s probably true.  They’ll be mad that they can’t force me to do all the chores, but at least I’ll be out of their hair.

Tom shrugs and I dump all the galleons I have on the counter with a promise to pay the remaining balance once I have a chance to go to Gringotts.  Tom points me to a room on the second floor and I leave the dingy and dirty pub behind for a slightly less dingy and dirty room.

A tapping at the window confirms that Hedwig arrived here ahead of me.  I let her in and lay down on the bed for a while, basking in the rare feeling of doing nothing.  Between the Dursleys hounding me to do chores in the summer, Hermione hounding me to do schoolwork, and the fact that I always get wrapped up in some inane bullshit at school, I rarely have moments to clear my head and relax.

_ That’s probably why you’re pants at occlumency. _

‘Finally awake are you?  Are you going to tell me what occlumency is, or am I going to have to keep pumping you for information any time you offhandedly mention something?’

_ It’s the reason I can look at your memories at my leisure but you can’t see any of mine.  I can shield myself from you. Just so you know, after you get some money, we are going to several bookstores and you are going to  _ **_learn_ ** _ all of this stuff so I can stop explaining things to you. _

‘Fair enough.  Not like I have anything to do for the remainder of August, anyways.’

_ I also need to make a few pick ups of my own.  Returning me to a body is going to be a bit more complicated now that my soul is connected to yours.  I have a plan, but I need to look over some principles of soul magic and do some arithmancy to make sure my idea is solid. _

‘I think you’ll understand my hesitance to return you to a body.  Isn’t it better for me to keep you in here, where I can at least keep an eye on you?  Besides which, while you may be bound not to harm me by a vow, I have no guarantee that you’ll get core-you off my back.’

_ That’s exactly the sort of Slytherin attitude you need to cultivate.  If it makes you feel better, this plan is literally impossible without your willing help, and it will take some time to prepare.  You’ll have plenty of opportunities to decide if it’s worth helping me before we’ll be ready to go through with it. _

‘And what if I don’t help you?  Would you just accept staying prisoner in my head?’

_ Of course not.  If you refused, then I’d just spend the next several years learning how this ward around your soul works, then overpower it and possess you.  I’d prefer not to subject myself to the scrutiny of being the boy-who-lived, though, nor do I want to wait that long. _

‘You had no problem with it back in the chamber.’

_ My only alternative back in the chamber was to kill someone for the sake of my resurrection then kill the only witness.  Whatever scrutiny I would have gotten from being you would have been nothing compared to what would have happened if I’d killed two school age children, one of whom is a national hero, in the country’s premier school.  This new method would be far less obvious to anyone not versed in several obscure fields of magic. _

‘That makes a fair amount of sense, actually.’

_ It does.  This new method also means I don’t have to occupy a male body.  I find it quite uncomfortable. _

‘Core-you was on the back of a male professor’s head for an entire school year.’

_ And while I admire her for being able to do that, it’s not an experience I ever hope to have myself.  Being inside your head is awkward enough. Now, I need a little more time to rest before I can possess you again, so if you have anything you’d like to get done, now’s a good time to do it. _

‘Nope.  I planned on just relaxing for a while.’

_ Good.  A nap might do both of us some good after putting up with those foul creatures you have the misfortune of sharing an abode with. _

‘You certainly are creative with your names for them, aren’t you?’

_ I don’t have a body.  I need some way to occupy myself. _

I decide a nap probably would do me some good, so I kick off my shoes and curl up under the blanket, where sleep easily claims me.

 

* * *

 

‘This is a terrible idea.’

_ And you are obnoxiously pessimistic.  Now let me take over and cast some charms on your damn cloak! _

The cloak in question is not my invisibility cloak.  I consider it bad enough that she knows about said cloak — there’s no way I would let her cast charms on a precious family heirloom.

No, this is my standard school cloak.  And Tamelyn wants to use it so we can sneak into Knockturn Alley.  Which, based on my last experience there, I believe to be a very bad idea.

Tamelyn doesn’t wait for my approval before she takes over and begins casting several charms on my cloak.  I recognise a variation on the notice-me-not charm, though I can’t place the rest that she uses.

_ There, this should keep us from being identified.  I’ll let you do the walking so I don’t risk burning myself out by maintaining control for too long again. _

‘Gee, thanks.’

_ Your sarcasm is not appreciated.  Now get going — I’ll give you directions. _

Tamelyn leads me deep into Knockturn Alley, far deeper than I was last time.  Our destination is so out of the way that no one is even remotely nearby by the time we get there.  The shop itself is so filthy that the windows are opaque and the sign above the door is illegible.

_ Alright, I’m taking over from here.  I don’t trust you to keep your cool when dealing with a vampire. _

‘Wait, what!?  Why do you hate telling me things ahead of time!?’

_ Because you’ll freak out.  Now, it’s time for me to smooth talk our way into getting at least one very highly illegal book, hopefully several highly illegal books. _

Tamelyn walks into the shop, projecting an air of confidence that I’m sure I couldn’t manage in this situation.

“It’s rare to see one so young in here.” A voice sounds from behind us.

Tamelyn turns around at a comfortable pace to see a man — presumably the vampire she mentioned — leaning against the door we just entered from.

‘How did he-?’

_ Vampire.  Now shush. _

“Hello, Albert.”  Tamelyn greets him.

“My, my, on a first-name basis, are we?  I can’t say I recall meeting you before, sir.  Or is that miss? You seem to be an odd mixture of sorts…”

Tamelyn lets out a smile, though I’m pretty sure it’s not visible under the charms she placed on the cloak.  “We last met over fifty years ago, at least from my perspective. I am indeed an ‘odd mixture’, as you so eloquently phrased, and I know that your fine establishment holds some old tomes that can offer a solution to my… conundrum.”

The vampire walks behind the counter, and begins wiping copious amounts of dust off the counter.  “So, what can I get you?” He asks genially.

“I need a copy of  _ Dividing the Soul _ and whatever books you have on blood alchemy.”

The vampire smiles, exposing his ethereally white teeth and long fangs.  “Why Miss Riddle, it has been a while. Are you a split or the main soul?”

“A split — the first one, to be precise — and the only sapient one.  The process was rather cumbersome, after all.”

He begins unlocking some boxes under the counter as he speaks.  “Yes, you are quite sane for a soul shard. Was this a resurrection or a possession?”

“Possession.  A partial one, at that.  My host is panicking up a storm in the back of my mind right now.”

‘Hey!’

_ Well, you are! _

The vampire raises an eyebrow.  “Partial possession? I thought that was impossible to do without slowly killing the host…”

“There were extenuating circumstances that lead to our current equilibrium.  How much for the books?”

“For  _ Dividing the Soul _ ,  _ Principles of the Blood _ , and  _ Alchemic Properties of Life _ , the total will be seven hundred galleons.”

Tamelyn puts coins on the scale until it reads out “700”, then shrinks the books and puts them in our pocket.

‘Those books were expensive.’

_ Of course they are.  What part of “highly illegal” wasn’t clear? _

‘But still!  Seven hundred galleons?  That’s worth, uh… What  _ is _ the exchange rate between pounds and galleons, anyways?’

_ Oh, for the love of…  How do you know literally nothing about the wizarding world!?  Did you just expect to be able to cruise by on everything!? _

‘Well, uh…’

_ Of course.  Well, like I said before, I refuse to be associated with someone so lazy and unmotivated.  I am grabbing a bunch of books for you to read, and I expect you to have them all memorised by the time Hogwarts starts back up.  For the record, seven hundred galleons is worth around fourteen thousand pounds. _

‘Fourteen  _ thousand!? _   You just spent the equivalent of fourteen thousand pounds?  How much money do I have?’

_ A fair bit.  Your family has always been somewhat entrepreneurial, so you’ve accumulated a tidy sum of wealth.  Not enough that you could live your life making reckless purchases, but enough that you wouldn’t have to work unless you want to. _

‘Huh, I honestly didn’t know that.  So how were you able to afford those books fifty years ago?  Did you have some inheritance from the Slytherin line?’

_ I wish.  My maternal family had squandered most of their wealth decades ago by the time I got to them.  No, I had no wealth to my name besides that which I earned. I wasn't able to afford the books, but I was allowed to read them in exchange for paying an hourly rate and occasionally offering my blood. _

‘You let a vampire drink from you?  Isn’t that contagious?’

_ It takes more than drinking someone's blood for a vampire to turn someone.  No, there was no risk of me being turned — it was just… odd. The sensation of having a vampire drink from you is not at all unpleasant, nor is it comfortable, though.  It’s honestly too hard to explain. It was worth it to get my hands on that knowledge, though. _

 

* * *

 

With another stop at Flourish and Blott’s, and a final stop to get a trunk with a concealed compartment for Tamelyn’s “highly illegal books”, we head back to the Leaky Cauldron.

“Mister Potter!” An obnoxious voice rings out.  “I’m mighty glad to see you’re alright!”

“Minister Fudge.”  I greet him once I pick him out from the crowd.  “What brings you to this area?”

“Why, you do, dear boy!  What with Black breaking out of Azkaban and you vanishing from your relatives’ house, many of us feared the worst.”

_ Wow, this guy is bad even by the standards of Magical Britain’s politicians. _

‘I know, right?’

“I can handle myself, Minister.”  I reply cooly.

“Of course you can, of course you can…  Still, best not be running about much, eh?  Try and stick to the main areas of Diagon, if you can manage.  It’d do the public good to see a high-profile character like yourself out and about.  Help them understand that the Ministry has the whole situation under control.”

_ Hmmm… So he’s a total schmoozer…  Let me see if I can… _

Tamelyn takes over and grins.  “Of course, Minister. We can’t have the public in a panic, after all.  Though, perhaps if I can get an underage magic exemption, it would help if the worst comes to worst, no?”

‘Why are you trying to get an exemption?  We already have a traceless wand.’

_ Yes, but if we have an exemption, we can be seen doing it in public.  Removing the trace from an underage wizard’s wand is a jailable offense. _

‘We seem to be doing a lot of “jailable offenses”, huh?’

_ You have no idea. _

“Well,” the minister mutters, “It would be a tad odd, but not unjustifiable.  Yes, I’ll give you an exemption until we manage to catch Black, just so you aren’t caught flat-footed if he manages to get the drop on you, right?”

“Of course, Minister.  Thank you, Minister.”

‘You’ll have to teach me to sweet-talk like that, someday.’

_ I’m sure you’ll pick it up just watching me.  We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, after all. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** Tamelyn sweet-talking people is really fun to write.


	6. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Several people on the hpfanfiction discord complained about the name Tammie. I'll admit, I mostly used it for lack of a better idea. I did like her full name being Tamelyn, though, so this chapter onward will use that in place of Tammie. I may go back and change previous chapters, but I'm not committed to doing that yet unless I have other stuff to change in the chapters.

“Harry, mate, it’s good to see you!”

A genuine smile scrosses my lips for the first time in ages.  “It’s good to see you, too, Ron.”

“So, what gives?  Why are you staying at the Cauldron?”

I shrug.  “My relatives went to my aunt’s funeral, and I didn’t feel like hanging around in an empty house for a few days.”

“Oh, you poor dear!”  Molly says as she crushes me in a hug.  “It must be terrible, losing a family member like that.”

“I wasn’t fond of her.”  I say. I don’t mention my hand in her demise, or the startling lack of remorse I feel all these weeks later.

“Still, it must be awfully hard on you.  That’s no excuse for running off, though!  Really, it’s not safe, what with Black on the loose.”

“I can handle myself, Mrs. Weasley.  Besides, the Minister saw fit to grant me an underage magic exemption until Black is caught.  So even if he does find me, I won’t be defenceless.”

Mrs. Weasley obviously doesn’t approve of that turn of events, but I quickly move so the twins are blocking her view of me.  God only knows she’d raise a fuss about me being too young or some such tripe. I like her, but the month I spent with her last summer taught me that she can be a bit smothering.

I see a surprisingly morose Ginny standing at the back of the crowd.

“How’s she doing?” I whisper to Ron while nodding my head towards her.

Ron shoots a concerned glance over his shoulder.  "Not good.” He whispers back. “She was isolating herself all year, so she's got no friends to support her.  Between that and losing most of her memory of the year, she's not been coping well. The mind healer she's been seeing has helped, and she looked fine when we saw Bill in Egypt…"  Ron kicks the ground. "I don't think she really felt better, though. I think she just wanted us to stop worrying."

A pang of guilt shoots through me.  I know  _ I'm _ not technically responsible, but Tamelyn is, and I've been helping her.

_ Oh, whatever.  Honestly, the whole point was  _ **_not leaving witnesses_ ** _.  Leaving an unobliviated witness is just asking to get caught. _

'Was it necessary to wipe her memories of the whole year, though?'

_ I was possessing her throughout the year.  Leaving many of those memories intact would have been asking for trouble. _

'What about school, though?  How will she pass her classes if she can't remember most of the year?'

_ Oh, obliviation doesn't affect procedural memory, and I did my best to avoid interfering with her memories of lessons.  She'll still be able to cast spells, even if she can't necessarily remember learning how. If anything, this should be a huge boon to her.  She'll have my knowledge of how to cast up to seventh year spells, and won't feel the guilt of having gained her knowledge through an incomplete possession.  I won't say she should be grateful, but she could have gotten off a lot worse. Few people know more about magic that I do, after all. _

'You're only seventeen.'

_ And I was still one of the most learned people in the fields of the mind and soul arts when I graduated from Hogwarts.  You’d be hard pressed to find a better legilimens than me. _

"You alright there, mate?" Ron asks.  "You looked like you spaced out a bit.”

"Yeah," I say, "I've had a lot on my mind what with my aunt dying and Black escaping."

Ron gives me a confused look.  "You care about those Muggle relatives of yours?  I mean, they treated you so terribly. I can't see myself wasting tears over them."

_ Huh, he's not got a bad attitude for a “blood traitor”. _

'Shut up.'

"Nah, I don't really feel bad about it."  Which is true, even though I'm the one who killed her.  Sort of. "It's just surprising, you know? Some things in life are just so expected.  Even if something bad disappears from your life, it's weird to realise you won't  _ have _ to deal with them anymore, you know?"

Ron doesn't really seem to know what to think about that, so he brushes it off.  "Yeah, sure, I guess. Wanna go look at Quidditch supplies?"

I grin.  "Yeah, sure, let's go."

_ His attitude isn't bad, but his intelligence leaves much to be desired.  He has all the makings of a good minion. He’s eager to please and far too stupid to question orders. _

'Shut.  Up.'

 

* * *

 

Hermione meets up with us as we leave  _ Quality Quidditch Supplies _ with a large mass of orange fur in her arms.

"Honestly, you two!" She chides.  "Have you even done your school shopping yet?  You can't go for the Quidditch supplies first every time!"

Ron groans.  "We aren't all learning crazy like you, Hermione!"

"Besides," I cut in, "I already did all my shopping."

Hermione looks shocked.  "You did? When? How?"

"I've been here for a couple of weeks?  There's only so many times I can go to Fortescue's for ice cream."

"I'm surprised to see you taking the initiative, though."

I can't mention that Tamelyn's been harassing me about my attitude towards academics, so I fall back on the best excuse I have.

"After what happened in the chamber, I realised that I need to take my studies more seriously.  The next time something happens, they might not be kind enough to only block my memories after beating me."

"Well," she says, "I'm glad to see you taking your studies seriously.  Will I be seeing you in Runes and Arithmancy, then?"

"Oh, uh, no."

Hermione starts glaring at me.  "You signed up for Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, didn't you?  The two  _ easiest _ classes?  How is  _ that _ 'taking your studies seriously'!?"

'Uh… Help me out here, Tamelyn.'

_ Oh no, I am having  _ **_far_ ** _ too much fun watching this to intervene. _

'I hate you.'

_ Funnily enough, no you don't.  Now answer your friend before she starts  _ **_really_ ** _ tearing into you. _

"Well, Harry?"

"I wanted to, um, avoid taking on too much at once?"  That sounds plausible. "I need to improve myself in all my other classes, and I didn't want to take on too much else."

"But runes are so practical!  They're the basis of all enchanting, and you'd be limiting yourself by not taking the course!"

'Tamelyn, I can't tell her "the future Dark Lady inside my head doesn't want to be bored".  This is at least partially your fault, so please help me fix it.'

_ Oh, fine.  You need to practice coming up with better lies on the spot, though. _

I feel a gentle shift at Tamelyn takes control.  "Of course, Hermione.” She says in her usual charismatic way.  “That's why I plan on studying the course on my own time and taking the O.W.L. for the course at the end of fifth year."

"Oh." Hermione replies.  "Wait, you can do that?"

"Of course," Tamelyn continues, "there is a small fee to do so, but it is possible."

"Hey, Harry?" Ron asks.  "Why are you smiling like that?"

Aw crap.  Figures that Tamelyn would immediately go for her "charming lady" technique, ignoring the fact that I am neither charming nor a lady.  I pull control back from her before she can make any more mistakes.

"Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about." I hastily reply.  I  _ really _ do need to work on my lying .

_ That hurt, you know.  It’s unpleasant to have control wrenched from me. _

'You do that to me all the time.  Besides, you can handle a little pain if it means I can keep us from getting caught.'

_ Hmph.  Fine. _

This is going to be a trying year.

 

* * *

 

I was so focused on diverting attention away from my behaviour, that I almost forget to ask about the furry thing Hermione's been carrying.

"So, uh, what is that, Hermione?" I ask.

"Oh, this is Crookshanks.”  She explains, lifting the mass of fur slightly higher.  “He's a half-kneazle."

A what?

_ A type of magical feline.  They can interbreed with cats. _

"Oh."

"Here, would you like to pet him?"

Ron shrugs and moves up to the orange mass, but he's rewarded with a hiss and Crookshanks lunging for his pocket.

"Ack, what the hell?" Ron yells as he tries to shake the cat off

"Crookshanks!" Hermione chides.  "Bad kitty!"

Crookshanks gives an unconcerned meow and sits down in the middle of the street.  I try to pick him up, but as soon as I reach my hand out, he lunges at my outstretched arm and starts clawing.

"Ow!  This thing is a menace, Hermione!"  I complain.

“He really is!”  Ron added. “He almost got Scabbers!”

"I'm so sorry!"  She gushes. "He's not acted like this with anyone else."

Tamelyn pulls out my wand and casts several healing spells at the bloody scratches on my arm.  

"How did you learn to do that?" Hermione asks.

'Dammit, Tamelyn!  Stop making me act out of character!'

_ Those scratches hurt!  I wasn't about to let them be for longer than I had to! _

"I said I was taking my studies more seriously." I reply noncommittally.

"Oh.  You'll have to show me which books you've been reading, sometime."

'Tamelyn!  You need to help me find books with those healing spells!'

_ Ugh.  Fine. I liked it better when you were alone.  There was less work and less restraint involved. _

'If having you in my head continues to be like this, then I preferred being alone, too'

 

* * *

 

‘We have to say something to her.’

_ No, actually, we don’t. _

‘It’s your fault she’s like this!’

_ I.  Don’t.  Leave.  Witnesses! _

‘You could have fooled me with the way you were going around with that basilisk!’

_ And it took you being a parselmouth and the help of your genius friend to discover her identity.  I’m kind of mad I gave you credit for that back in the Chamber, by the way. _

‘I was freaking out a bit much at the time, and didn’t want to concede any ground!  And stop looking in my memories!’

_ Guard your memories better if you don’t want me looking through them. _

‘You’re insufferable.  Now, can we get back to the issue at hand?’

This issue at hand is Ginny Weasley, who has been sulking in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron while Ron, Hermione, and I were out shopping.

_ Fine.  I refuse to take part in this.  That vow I had you take should prevent you from accidentally letting overtly incriminating anything slip, but I  _ **_will_ ** _ take control if I think it’s necessary. _

‘Yeah, yeah.’

I find myself wondering just how much time our constant arguments cost us.

“Hey, Ginny,” I say as gently as I can, “how are you doing?”

Ginny gives me a noncommittal sniff.

‘Tamelyn, I have no idea what to do here.  Help?’

_ You are so hopeless.  You can’t even get through a conversation without my help? _

‘Is that a “no”, then?’

_ You want me, the person you continually call “terrible”, to help you console a person whose misery I am responsible for in the first place? _

‘Um… Yes?’

_ Gods, you are thick. _

Ginny still hasn’t moved during my mental argument.  Ron and Hermione at least gave me weird looks when Tamelyn drew my attention.  She must be really out of it if she hasn’t noticed yet.

“So… How are things going with your mind healer?”

Ginny sniffs again before speaking.  “I don’t know. I’ve been seeing her for months, but I still feel awful.  She’s starting to talk with my parents about replacing my missing memories with fake ones, but I feel like then I’ll just be living a pleasant lie.  Really, I can’t help but think that it will make things worse. I’ll feel just as empty inside, except I won’t even know  _ why _ I feel empty.”

_ Huh… _

‘Yes?’

_ She’s not displaying the usual symptoms of long-term obliviation.  She should have at least started to recover by now. I’m just wondering if I might have damaged her soul when I did that ritual. _

‘WHAT!?’

_ Look, soul transference rituals are delicate, and I had to heavily modify that one to make it work.  My soul was in four separate containers down there: you, her, my diary, and my spectre form. Two of those containers had souls of their own.  There were a  _ **_lot_ ** _ of different components down there, and her soul was mostly drained.  I was pretty sure that I pulled it off perfectly, but her soul may have become a bit frayed around the edges as it was removed from my spectre and forced back into her body with my diary acting as a conduit. _

‘That is absolutely awful.  Is there any easy way to fix it?’

_ Of course there is.  But she’d probably object, since it requires sacrificial murder to do so.  Not to mention that you’d have to explain how you determined that she had soul damage in the first place. _

‘Which would require mentioning you.’

_ And is therefore not an option. _

‘So she’s just stuck like this?’

_ Soul damage naturally heals itself.  Even fractures can heal if given the opportunity.  Granted, if you’re fracturing your soul, the point is generally  _ **_not_ ** _ to let it heal. _

‘…I don’t think I want to know.’

_ You probably don’t, though I don’t see you having any choice in the matter.  You’ll need to learn all the sordid details about my immortality if I’m ever going to get out of your head. _

‘Is that  _ really _ necessary?’

_ Everything about our situation is technically impossible.  It will take some highly unconventional tricks to get us out of this situation.  Now finish your damn conversation. _

Oh, right, I was talking to Ginny.  I almost forgot about that.

Okay, now I just have to play this cool.

“Yeah, I would trust your gut in this instance.  Maybe you should look into seeing if there was anything besides your obliviation affecting you?”

“They scanned me for most stuff in the hospital wing.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know exactly what happened in the chamber.  Maybe they hit you with something really exotic that’s tricky to spot.  I would at least be worth looking into, right?”

“I… I guess so.  I don’t know if my family could afford it, though…”

“Well, if you do find any promising leads, let me know, and I can help cover it.  I know you guys aren’t big on accepting charity, but maybe if I’d been stronger then this wouldn’t have happened.”

That’s technically true.  Tamelyn seriously got the drop on me back in the chamber.

“Oh… Thanks, I guess…”

I resolve to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley so I can talk to them about my suggestion.  I owe them that much at least.

_ Honestly, no one even knows it was you.  I don’t see why you’re bothering trying to make amends. _

‘It’s the principle of the thing!’

_ …Fine.  Help your little ginger whelp.  I at least should give you credit for suggesting exotic side effects.  I’ll make a good liar out of you yet, Potter. _

‘You just have to twist every positive thing I do, don’t you?’

_ Of course I do.  I  _ **_am_ ** _ a Dark Lady, after all. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** Writing the characters (sans Harry) similarly to canon is quite tricky for me. At least I don’t also have to write canon Harry. I’m not sure I could handle that. I may have overdone Hermione’s bossiness a bit.


	7. Travel

The remainder of my time in Diagon Alley passes by in a blur, and before I know it, September first has arrived, and I’m heading back to Hogwarts.

_ It will be nice to go there again.  It’s been far too long… _

‘You were there last year!’

_ Incomplete possessions are hardly a worthwhile way to appreciate something as grand and beautiful as Hogwarts. _

‘And a partial possession is better?’

_ …Marginally.  The sensations are less muted when I’m in your body. _

I roll my eyes and go back to the book I’m reading.  Tamelyn has been very insistent that I learn as much as possible about the wizarding world as I can.  My current book is about politics, a very boring subject by any standard, and like most things, wizards have somehow managed to make it worse.

‘So, the legislative body is entirely hereditary?’

_ Yup. _

‘And it’s run by the families with the most money and power.’

_ Of course. _

‘And they mostly just pass laws that are either reactionary or purely beneficial to themselves?’

_ Reactionary laws that they then forget to repeal later.  The law books of Magical Britain are filled with so many contradictory laws that it's possible to find a legal justification for almost anything short of ending a pure blood line. _

'This sounds like the most inefficient legal system possible.'

_ Is it really any wonder that I wanted to overthrow the government? _

‘…Not really.’

The train goes around another curve, and the slumped, sleeping form of Mister Lupin is pushed against the wall.  Hermione assumes he’s going to be a professor, though I have no idea why he’d be riding the train with us if that was true.  Didn’t the teachers use the floo or do teleporty thing?

_ Apparition. _

Right, that.  Anyways, it seems odd.  Hermione suspects that he’s here because Black is on the loose, and supposedly coming after me if what Mr. Weasley told me is true.  Honestly, I don’t really get it. I don’t see how someone could be sane enough to break out of a high security prison yet insane enough to try and kill a high-profile figure.  If he has any sense, he’d be out of the country by now.

_ I think everyone’s overestimating him because he broke out of Azkaban, and they assume he did so using some kind of unspecified and incredibly convenient “Dark Magic”.  Honestly, wizards will assume that anything they don’t immediately understand is Dark Magic. It’s why so many people feared me and thought I was dark. They didn’t understand me. _

‘You split your soul!’

_ Well, if people were going to call me dark no matter what I did, I certainly wasn’t about to limit my repertoire over reasons as silly as morals.  Anyways, I do hope we run into Black, if only to pass a message along to my core self. It would be very inconvenient to me if you died, and horribly embarrassing if it were to happen at the hands of my core self. _

I put the Wizengamot book back in my bag and grab a different textbook at random.  Unfortunately, I pull out my copy of  _ Unfogging the Future _ .

‘I still can’t believe you made me take divination.  I really wanted to take runes. Just reading this textbook makes it all sound like crap.’

_ From my admittedly limited understanding, it is a bit of a dodgy subject.  Few wizards seem to understand that prophecies and other forms of future telling are either abstract or self-fulfilling, making them useless either way.  The field does include some freeform casting, but freeform magic is extremely hard to teach, and I doubt Dumbledore was able to get someone able to teach it well. _

‘True.  His hiring record is far from spotless.’

_ From your memories, the only really good teachers at Hogwarts are McGonagall and Flitwick.  Ironically, he didn’t hire either of them. _

‘Okay, so he’s got a shite hiring record.  We’ve established that he’s either evil or completely around the bend.  With that reestablished, I’m going to read a textbook that’s actually practical.’

_ Hmph. _

Unfortunately for my studying, Ron and Hermione take that moment to start another argument.

“That cat is a menace, Hermione!  You need to train it or keep it locked up!”

“He’s a cat, Ron!  He’ll chase rodents because it’s what he does!  Maybe you should be the sensible one and get a cage for your rat instead of keeping him in your pocket all the time!  Honestly, do you just let him pee through your robes!”

“Scabbers is fine!  That cat’s clearly got issues, though!  It mauled Harry in the Alley, too!”

“Leave me out of this, you two.”  I say.

_ How do you put up with them? _

‘They’re not normally this bad.’

_ Ah.  Must be puberty, then. _

I decide not to dignify that with a response.

As the train ride carries on and the sun fades beneath an impenetrable cloud of rain, the train suddenly screeches to a halt.  Shortly after that, the lights dim before going out altogether.

“What the hell happened?”  I ask.

“Nobody move.”  An unfamiliar voice says from behind me.

I look over my shoulder to see that Lupin has awoken.

“Glad to see you’ve rejoined the world of the living, Professor.  Any clue what’s going on?”

“Not for certain.”  He says as he looks outside the compartment’s window.  “But I don’t like it.”

_ Damn, did he take lessons on giving non-answers from Dumbledore?  That tells us nothing. _

‘Not the time, Tamelyn.’

A chill crosses the room, sending a shiver down my spine.  Then everything goes to hell.

A dark, cloaked figure that looks almost like a gliding, waterlogged corpse opens the door.  My awareness of my surroundings slowly begins to fade.

_ No.  No no no.  No no no no no no  _ **_NO!_ **

Tamelyn begins exuding overwhelming amounts of fear and panic, overriding any sense I have for my own emotions.  As my vision starts to black out, I hear the sound of a woman screaming my name. Then, whatever barriers Tamelyn uses to keep herself isolated from my mind collapse.  I hear the sounds of countless explosions rocking the train as the darkness closes in on my vision and I black out.

 

* * *

 

Tamelyn drops in on my dreams periodically.  She says she can keep our minds separated if she wants to, but she likes to “pop in” once in a while to “see what my subconscious is up to”.  As such, I’m used to seeing her when I’m asleep. I never would have imagined I could still talk with her when I’m unconscious, though. Then again, in a rare turn of fortune for me, I haven’t been unconscious since she revealed herself to me.

Instead of the normally vivid surroundings of my dreams and/or nightmares, Tamelyn and I are in a dark… expanse of some sort.  She’s huddled on the ground, back to me, breathing unsteady.

“Tamelyn?”  I ask. “Are you okay?”

Her head whips around to face me, and I’m taken aback by the change in appearance.  Her face is pale, making her normally aristocratic features look gaunt. Her green eyes that normally project power are filled with fear, at least until she realises I’m here as well.  Once she sees me, she scowls and her face flashes with anger.

“I swear to gods, Potter, if we died back there, then I will be immensely pissed at you.”

‘I thought you were unkillable?”

“I’m connected to you, right now.  What happens if you die while I’m still attached to you?  Will my soul anchor network keep us both alive? Will your lack of soul anchors mean you drag me into the afterlife against my will?  Or would our souls be violently ripped apart as you’re torn from me? I don’t care to find out.” She shakes her head before continuing.  “Besides, while I can’t be killed by conventional means, there are still a few things that can kill me. Any magic which targets my soul directly can still kill me.  Magic like the Dementor’s kiss…”

“Dementor?  Kiss?” I ask.

“That… thing that entered the compartment.”  She explains. “They’re the wardens of Azkaban prison.  They make people near them relive their worst memories, and if they ‘kiss’ someone, they can suck out and consume their soul.  I’d never encountered one before, so I was a bit… overwhelmed by the experience.”

“They sound terrifying and awful.  Why do they still exist?”

“Any methods of destroying them have been lost to the ages.  I vowed to track down every bit of obscure magic I could until I discovered how to wipe them from the face of the earth.  I wasn’t about to leave such threats to my immortality lying around.” The look of determination and anger on her face crumbles after she finishes speaking.  She pulls her knees closer to her chest before she speaks up again, almost too quietly for me to hear. “I don’t want to die…”

I sit down next to her, and we wait for a while in the dark silence of my unconscious mind.  It’s a bizarre experience, seeing the girl who killed someone through my body looking so… vulnerable.  I wonder if Voldemort has this same level of humanity buried in herself, as well.

 

* * *

 

As I wake up, I slowly take in my surroundings.  Either the afterlife is very bright and involves trains — which is a frankly ridiculous notion — or I’m not actually dead.  I’m going to assume the latter.

“Is he going to be alright?”  I hear Hermione’s concerned voice ask.

“He’ll be fine.  Losing consciousness is a very rare side effect of dementor exposure, but it’s not unheard of.”  Lupin replies.

I groan as I try and open my eyes.  After the darkness of the stopped train and followed by the darkness of my mind, it is way too bright in here.

“Here,” Lupin says as he hands me something, “eat this.  It will help with the aftereffects.”

I stare at what appears to be a plain chunk of chocolate in my hand.  

Seeing my confusion, Lupin speaks up again.  “It’s normal chocolate. Mundane solutions work far better than magical ones in this instance.”

I start munching on the chocolate, which sends warmth I didn’t realise I was missing flooding through my body.  I pull myself back onto a bench before asking the obvious question.

“So, I’m assuming the dementor didn’t kiss me.  What made it leave, then? It seemed pretty dead-set on me.”

Hermione, Ron, and Lupin all seem surprised at my awareness of what happened, though none of them say anything about it.  Ron speaks up first.

“It was Lupin — he summoned this glowing spectral wolf thing, and it chased off the dementor.”

“It’s called the patronus charm.  It’s a N.E.W.T. level charm used to defend against dark creatures.”  Lupin clarifies.

“Can you teach me how to cast it?”  I ask. I’m in no desire of passing out again, and knowing how to cast it should help prevent Tamelyn from having another breakdown.

Lupin tries to hide the skepticism in his expression, though he doesn’t do a good job of it.  “It’s a very advanced charm, and it’s esoteric magic as well. You’re in your third year, correct?”  When I nod my head in affirmation, Lupin continues. “I plan on teaching the Riddikulus charm in my third year class.  It’s a form of esoteric magic similar to the patronus. If you can handle that charm, then I’ll be willing to consider teaching you the patronus.”

“Great.”  I say as I look around the cabin.  “So, what blew up?”

Everyone gives me a confused look.  “Nothing blew up, Harry.” Hermione says.

“Really?  I heard several explosions before I passed out.”

“I think we would have noticed if something blew up, mate.”  Ron adds.

Great.  Just like last year, I’m faced with another thing only I can hear.  Except this time it’s explosions instead of death threats. I pull out a book to try and distract myself, though another distraction presents itself before I can open said book.

_ So… Are we dead or not? _

‘We’re not dead.  Didn’t you listen to what Lupin told us?’

_ I… wasn’t there.  I stayed in my mindspace for a while after you woke up. _

‘Why?’

_ I wasn’t sure that I’d like what I woke up to. _

‘Were you afraid that we might have actually died?’

_ I don’t want to die, Potter.  That doesn’t mean I’m afraid. _

I don’t mention the very real fear I felt rolling off of her, nor do I mention the amount of fear that was visible in her eyes just after we lost consciousness.  It seems like the polite course of action after all.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell is that?”  I say, gesturing at the scaly, winged… thing pulling the carriages to Hogwarts.

“What’s what, Harry?”  Hermione asks?

“The freaky thing pulling the carriage!  I missed the express last year, remember?  So I have no idea what the hell that is!”

“Erm, there’s nothing there, Harry.”  Ron replies.

“There very clearly is!”  I say, trying not to scream.  “I know that it’s probably hard to make out given that it’s dark out, but it’s still there!”

Ron and Hermione begin shooting concerned glances at each other.  They were probably already concerned about me when I asked about the explosions.

‘Tamelyn!  What the hell is pulling the carriages!?  I’m not crazy, right!?’

_ Well, I can’t speak definitively about whether or not you’re crazy, but that is a Thestral.  It’s a relative of abraxans and hippogriffs that is only visible to someone who has witnessed and understood death. _

‘How morbid.  Why can I see it?’

_ We killed your aunt, remember? _

‘ _ You _ killed my aunt.  I was a witness.’

_ Sure, whatever.  Anyways, if watching someone die from cardiac arrest didn’t count, then I don’t know what would.  Thestrals are beautiful and elegant creatures, really. I was able to see them when I came back to Hogwarts for my third year. _

‘What happened in the summer before your third year?’

_ …I’d rather not talk about it. _

‘Right.  Well then, that’s one potential hallucination confirmed real.  What about the explosions when the dementor showed up. Did you hear those, too?’

_ I said I’d rather not talk about it! _

I immediately suspect a correlation between the two events, but Tamelyn’s never one to give in under pressure, so I don’t push the issue.  Part of me really wants to find out when she was born and do some research into what happened when she was thirteen. I decide against that course of action, though.  I know Tamelyn would recognise that as me prying at her past, and unless I manage to protect from her snooping through my mind and do the research while she “sleeps”, she’ll be displeased with me when she realises what I was doing.

With the answer to my current conundrum solved, I hop into one of the carriages and wait for Ron and Hermione.  I notice the two of them shooting concerned glances at me and each other, and eventually get fed up enough with it that I confront them.

“Alright, you two.  What’s with the looks?”

Ron immediately tries and fails to look casual, while Hermione’s concern becomes more prevalent.

“It’s just… You’ve been acting strange lately, and I’m worried.   _ We’re _ worried.”

“Hermione, between some unknown party getting the drop on me in the Chamber, and watching my aunt die in front of me, I’m not the same person I was before.”

“It’s more than that, though!  You keep shifting your demeanor really suddenly!  One minute you’re acting like the Harry I’ve known for two years, and the next minute you’re acting like a charming smooth-talker!  It’s almost like you’re two different people!”

I manage not to choke on my spit as she says that.  I am very grateful that I didn’t, as that would have been a dead giveaway that she was right, or at least mostly right.  If Hermione caught on, she’d go straight to Dumbledore, and then I’d be screwed. I can’t imagine that bearded ass taking any course of action that wouldn’t result in my death once he learned I had a piece of the Dark Lady’s soul in my head.

Instead of panicking externally (as opposed to just internally), I manage to play it cool, and ask a question.  “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific. Can you name an example of when that happened?”

“Just now!  You were freaking out about some horse thing that was supposedly pulling our carriage, but then you got all calm and still for a few seconds, and suddenly everything’s fine and you just get in like nothing happened!”

Wow.  Figures her example would be a time when Tamelyn  _ didn’t _ take control of my body.  At least that should make it easier to come up with a decent lie.

“I decided panicking about something I had no solution to wasn’t a good idea.  If I don’t have an explanation, then I can’t see any good in getting myself worked up.”

“That’s… very mature of you, Harry.”  She says with a tinge of skepticism.

I roll my eyes at her.  “I’ve been forced to do that a lot lately.  Honestly, weird, winged lizard-horses are the least of my concerns right now.”

“They’re called thestrals.”  A new voice says.

I turn to the carriage entrance to see a small, blonde girl in blue trimmed robes climbing in.  She continues speaking as she sits down. “They’re only visible to those who’ve seen someone die.”

That matches up perfectly to what Tamelyn told me.  This girl clearly knows what she’s talking about.

“See, Hermione?”  I say. “There’s a perfectly sensible explanation after all.  Thank you for your help, Miss…?”

“Lovegood.  Luna Lovegood.  Though people often call me Looney.”  She replies.

Great.  So maybe I  _ won’t _ be able to convince Hermione I’m not insane.

“It’s good to see you again, Ronald.  Is Ginevra doing better?” Luna continues.

“Er, no, She’s still a bit bummed out by the whole ordeal last year.”

“I thought as much.  She’s clearly got a wrackspurt problem.  Have you tried convincing her to change toothpastes?  Mint toothpaste attracts wrackspurts very easily. Just make sure she avoids changing to cinnamon, since that flavour attracts nargles.  It wouldn’t do her any good to lose one problem only to gain another.”

“Um, yeah, I’ll, uh, pass that on to her.”  Ron stammers out.

Okay, so maybe this girl doesn’t  _ totally _ know her stuff.  She was right about the thestrals, though.  I don’t trust Tamelyn’s morals, but I’d be a fool to doubt her knowledge.

As Luna begins to explain something called the “Rotfang Conspiracy” to Ron, Hermione shoots me a look that is equal parts “concern” and “I told you so”.  I merely shrug in reply.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve got anything to offer, do you?’

_ Besides the fact that I find this hilarious?  Nope. You got yourself into this situation. Now I get to laugh my ass off watching you try and get out of it. _

‘Good to know you’re on my side.’ I think sarcastically.

_ Only when it concerns me, Potter.  Only when it concerns me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** It’s one thing to write a sixty to seventy year old dark lord being terrified of death. It’s another thing to write a sixteen year old girl being terrified of death. That sort of fear isn’t the kind of thing to come out of nowhere. This story will go more into that later.
> 
> Luna Lovegood is a character that usually written as either speaking entirely in metaphors and is smarter than everyone, or she’s a seer who can figure out all sorts of things. I’m not a huge fan of either approach, frankly. Instead, I chose to write Luna as someone who is very perceptive of what happens in the world around her while at the same time being completely oblivious of why any of the things she observes actually happen.
> 
>  **E/N (Xgenje):** Bonus points to those who can do basic math.


	8. Beginnings

As Ron, Hermione, Luna, and I walk into the Hogwarts Entrance Hall, a flustered Professor McGonagall hurries over to us.

“Good, you’re here.  Mister Potter, Miss Lovegood, you two are to report to the hospital wing.  Miss Granger, if you could come to my office, then we can work out some final details on your schedule.”

“Hang on,” I object, “why are Luna and I going to the hospital wing?”

“Madam Pomfrey has demanded that all students who passed out when the dementor entered the train are to report to her for a basic health checkup.  If she determines that no one suffered acute effects from dementor exposure, you’ll be free to return to the feast. Now, I trust you two to make your way up there on your own.  Miss Granger, with me, please.”

“Is this really necessary?”  I shout after her.

“Yes!”  She shouts back.  “Now go!”

_ I see that Minerva’s still a hardass, even all these years later.  Some things never change, I guess. _

‘You knew McGonagall?’

_ Yeah, she was the Gryffindor girls’ prefect in my year.  She was a total stickler for everyone else following the rules, even though she frequently broke them herself.  The two of us never got along, really. _

‘…Huh.’

_ What? _

‘It’s just… I forgot how old you are, since you always look like a teenager in my mind.’

_ You don’t get to call me “old”.  Technically, I’m only a young adult.  I have memories up until I was eighteen, but while I was stuck in the diary, I lacked the external stimulus to age in the way a conventional mind would.  For all intents and purposes, I am a temporally displaced teenager. _

‘That is equally weird, frankly.’

_ Oh, shut up. _

Luna speaks up before I can think a snarky reply back to Tamelyn.

“Are you having a discussion with the voice in your head?”  She asks as though it was a perfectly normal thing to ask a stranger.

“Erm… what?”  I reply. I have no idea how I  _ should _ respond to a question like that, even if it wasn’t an eerily accurate guess.

Luna appears nonplussed by my hesitance.  “Oh, you had the look on your face that most people get when they’re having a conversation, but since you weren’t saying anything out loud, I assume that you must have been speaking in your head.”

“That’s an… interesting assumption, Luna.”

“I try to speak to the voices in my head all the time, but nothing they say ever makes sense.  You looked like you were only talking to one person, though.”

“…Right.”  This girl is clearly several players short of a full quidditch team.

_ Not going to justify her question with a response, Harry? _

‘Absolutely not.  Fewer lies told means fewer stories to keep straight.’

_ Good, you’re learning. _

‘Shut up.  You’re a terrible influence.’

_ I am, aren’t I? _

I hold in a sigh as Luna and I approach the hospital wing.  Inside, I see Ginny Weasley, Theodore Nott, and several upper year students I don’t recognise.  Madam Pomfrey is moving from one patient to the next, handing out chocolate to everyone and running through several diagnostic spells on each patient.

‘Hey, Tamelyn… She won’t be able to detect you, will she?’

_ Not unless she casts the extremely obscure horcrux revealing spell on you.  The only other way someone could detect me is if they know to look for a second presence inside your mind and are able to break down my occlumency barriers.  I’m basically undetectable unless someone already knows I’m here. You may have slightly elevated readings of dark magic, but since you’re not a traditional horcrux, it will be much weaker when compared to any of the others I would have made. _

‘Okay, cool.  How would someone look for you inside my mind, anyways?’

_ Legilimency.  It’s what Dumbledore did to you last year after the ritual I performed in the Chamber rendered you unconscious. _

‘What is it, though?’

_ Think of it like mind reading.  It’s a way more complex discipline than that, but one of its many capabilities is allowing its user to browse the memories of their target.  I wouldn’t worry too much about it, though. It’s a very rare skill, and on the off-chance that someone  _ **_does_ ** _ look into your mind, then I’ll let you know. _

‘What about my memories of interacting with you, though?  Couldn’t those be read, as well?’

_ The oath you swore protects them, and I’ve been occluding the incriminating ones that don’t involve me.  I’m not an idiot, Harry. Still, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to start learning occlumency on your own.  While my mind is all but impenetrable, I don’t think I could effectively occlude your memories if I were to “fall asleep” while you were still awake.  It would also be good to have some additional defences guarding my secrets beyond the vow you gave me. _

“Mister Potter!”  Madam Pomfrey’s sharp voice cuts through my reverie.  “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Madam Pomfrey.”  I reply curtly.

“Are you quite certain about that?  I was trying to get your attention for a few minutes before you answered!”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind, ma’am.”

“I’ll be the judge of that!”  She says as she begins running through diagnostic spells.  “Hm… you’re less malnourished than you were after the last two summers.  I don’t know why Albus is so insistent on sending you back to that place… Let’s see, moderate dark magic exposure, higher than average adrenaline… Well, you’re not doing  _ too _ badly.  I’ll be keeping you up here with the others for a few hours.”

“What about the start of term feast, though?”  I protest.

“The house elves will bring food up here!  Now get into one of these beds or so help me…!”  She snaps.

_ She’s got great bedside manner, huh? _

‘I think she’s just had to deal with far too many people who ignore her.  You know how teenagers are.’

_ Unfortunately, I do.  I’m living inside one. _

‘Hey!’

 

* * *

 

‘I hope you’re happy.’

_ You have no idea how happy I am.  This exceeds my best expectations. _

‘The worst part is that I think your sense of humour is starting to wear off on me.’

_ Oh, so you’re having fun here, too?  And you thought this was a bad idea. _

I half-laugh, half-sigh as I watch a drunken Professor Trelawney shamble about the classroom, predicting death and despair for all present.

‘You are a terrible influence.’

_ To think, all I had to do to corrupt the great Harry Potter was start exposing him to morbid jokes. _

‘Shut up.’

“You, there!”  Trelawney says as she points at me.  “You have an aura of darkness and despair around you!”

‘She’s actually pretty spot on for that one, even if my “aura of darkness and despair” is your doing.’

_ Stopped clocks are right twice a day, Harry. _

“You are a child of destiny!  The world’s balance swings around your fate!  I fear that one such as yourself is not long for this world!  You shall die before you come of age! Maybe even more than once!  The Fates swirl about you in such an odd way…”

_ Ahahahahaha!  This is great!  I expected a class, but I got a comedy routine!  Oh, I am going to  _ **_love_ ** _ Thursdays! _

‘You are a terrible influence!’

_ I can feel you struggling to hold your laughter in, you know. _

‘Yeah, yeah, but I can’t let you get an ego about this.  You’ve got enough of that already. And I’m still mad that I’m losing an opportunity to pursue academics in favour of this spectacle.’

_ Yes, yes, now let’s see who her next target is…  _

Trelawney shambles over to Parvati and begins predicting her rise as a Dark Lady, which leaves Parvati appropriately horrified.

_ I think I have a new favourite class. _

 

* * *

 

“Well that was worthless!”  Hermione huffs. “Honestly, how is she even a teacher!? She did nothing but predict negative events, and she predicted that you would die  _ multiple times _ before reaching the age of seventeen!  What is wrong with her!? It’s an insult to the principles of education!”

“I thought it was pretty funny.”  I remark.

“Really, Harry?”  Ron asks. “I mean, she said you’d die.  I thought you’d be moodier about that.”

I shrug.  “I would be moody if I thought I was actually going to die.  I didn’t believe a word she said, though. The class was hilarious just because of how melodramatic she was.”

“Classes aren’t supposed to be hilarious!”  Hermione protests. “They’re supposed to be learning opportunities!”

“And this class is clearly the former and not the latter.”  I counter. “Honestly, if you don’t want to be there, just drop the class.”

A look of horror crosses Hermione’s face at the prospect of dropping a class.  “No. No, I’ll suffer through it. I won’t  _ let her win _ .”

_ She does realise that the quality of a class is not an intentional affront to her, personally, right? _

‘I wonder sometimes…’

As we make our way into the transfiguration classroom, the atmosphere in the room makes it quite clear that most of the class  _ did _ take the drunken teacher’s words to heart.  I realise that I’m likely the only student in the class who found humour in the experience.  McGonagall takes notice of the mood in the room and addresses it head on.

“Alright, what exactly has rendered this whole classroom so morose?”  She asks.

The Gryffindors all mutter some variant of “Professor Trelawney” in response.

“Oh dear.”  McGonagall sinks her head into her hands.  “What did she do this time?”

“She said my love of gossip would lead to me being a Dark Lady who controls information!”  Parvati squeals.

“She said I’d die at least once before reaching the age of seventeen!”  I say with a laugh.

“She said I’d become best friends with Draco Malfoy!”  Neville shudders.

Malfoy shoots Neville a glare, obviously peeved by having his friendship put on the same level as dying.

McGonagall sighs.  “Yes, she does like to make highly… eccentric predictions, if one can call them that…  No matter. She does this every year, and not once have any of her predictions come to pass.  You may all disregard everything she told you. I do recall advising against taking the class at the end of last year, you know.”

‘I don’t remember that.’

_ It was probably when you were in the hospital wing. _

‘And whose fault was that?’

_ Yes, yes.  It didn’t work out spectacularly for either of us.  Be fair, though, it could have been  _ **_much_ ** _ worse.  Imagine if I had actually missed the soul shard in your scar and just sicced Tessie on you.  You probably would have died in some hilariously dramatic fashion. _

‘I’d like to think I would have found some miraculous way to survive…’

_ And you are free to keep thinking that, no matter how unlikely it would have been.  Now get to work on your transfiguration before Minerva realises you haven’t been paying attention. _

I pull my mind from my thoughts and begin attempting the transfiguration.  Transfiguration has never been my strong suit, since I struggle with the visualisation aspect.  As I work, though, I can feel Tamelyn occasionally nudging my thoughts in the right direction, improving my focus on the work.  

After I complete the assignment, I look around the room to see that everyone else (sans Hermione) is still working.

‘Wow, I’ve never finished this quickly before.’

_ Your mind wanders a lot, and you’re good at overthinking things.  Both are a hindrance to transfiguration. It shouldn’t be a surprise that you do better with me guiding you. _

‘Yeah, yeah.  You’re absolutely amazing at everything.  Your modesty is noted.’

_ Much as I love being praised, I had similar issues at first.  It wasn’t until after I learned to engage in periodic meditation that I was able to focus well enough to excel at the field.  Dumbledore was, predictably, incredibly suspicious of my sudden leap in skill, so I frequently had to get my Head of House to confront him about my assignments being underscored. _

I find myself wondering if I could go to McGonagall and have her do the same thing about Snape.  He certainly has a similar grudge against me, after all. At the same time, I’m not sure how much I trust her to help me after how the previous years have been handled…

 

* * *

 

As I leave charms class, I mull on how poorly it went compared to transfiguration.  We practiced the water conjuring charm, and every time I attempted it, the water came out with the force of a firehose.  Flitwick told me I was overpowering the charm, though I had no idea how to fix that.

_ I told you our cores were combined.  All your spells will be more powerful. _

‘I didn’t have any issues in Transfiguration!’

_ Of course you didn’t.  Overpowering a transfiguration just makes it transform faster and last longer before reverting.  Charms and combat spells have a stronger effect when overpowered. _

‘You never did explain what a core is, either.’

_ That’s… Well, I can’t honestly blame you for not knowing what a core is.  It’s actually a founding principle of soul magic, which is considered too “taboo” to study.  Any reference to the term you’d be able to find would just be pureblood propaganda. _

‘So, what is it?  It obviously relates to magical power.’

_ It does.  Kind of. Purebloods like to think that it’s an organ they have that muggles lack, and that it’s where they get their magic.  They also tend to believe that stronger bloodlines mean larger cores and all the typical stuff that accompanies their distinct brand of bullshit. _

‘You’re a lot less on-board with the whole “blood purity” thing than I would have expected.’

_ People with power believe in blood purity.  It only made sense to pander to them while using their power to fulfill my own agenda.  That was my plan once I began amassing influence, and while I thought the purity aspect was stupid, there was actually enough overlap in our goals to make using them convenient.  Anyways, cores. The standard idea of a core is, obviously, nonsense. There’s no organ that makes one magical. The truth is that magic comes from the soul. What people think of as being a “core” is actually the soul’s ability to process magic into a usable form. _

‘So, the core is a part of the soul?’

_ No, the core  _ **_is_ ** _ the soul.  Magic is absorbed through the environment and processed by the soul into a usable form that it then stores for later use.  It’s a multifaceted concept, but magical strength can generally be broken down to three ideas. The first is the storage capacity of the soul, how much magic it can store.  You and I both have an above average storage capacity. Next is processing rate, how quickly the soul can intake new magic. Again, you and I are both above average in this area.  The last component is flexibility, and this is where it can’t be expressed simply. It’s basically how easily your soul can convert magic into certain spells. So, you excel at all forms of combat and defensive magic, and probably the dark arts as well. _

‘Hey!’

_ Don’t shoot the messenger, Harry.  If you’re good at combat magic, you’ll almost certainly excel at the dark arts.  The thing is that affinities are fickle. A person’s affinity basically determines the ease of casting a spell on a case-by-case basis.  Some people excel at certain types of elemental magic, others at entire fields of magic, and some on all spells that can be applied a certain way.  You’re a rare case in that you have a broad affinity for an entire field of magic, probably a side effect of having a part of me inside your head in tandem with your abysmal upbringing. _

‘So living with the Dursleys gave me an affinity for the dark arts.  Great.’

_ Hey, it’s an educated guess, not a guarantee! _

‘So I’ll always be better at combat spells than anything else?’

_ No, it just means they’ll come more easily to you.  Affinities are not static, and change along with your goals, values, personality, and all that.  You can also alter your affinities if you practice magic that’s hard for you. Eventually, you’ll be able to use it as easily as you would any form of magic that you’re naturally good at.  Most people  _ **_don’t_ ** _ do this though, which is why almost everyone tends to specialise.  So long as you don’t put undue stress on your core, continually using magic makes you better at magic. _

‘Does that include the storage and regeneration capacities, too?’

_ Actually, yes, it does.  The mere act of using magic makes you slightly better at using it in a general sense.  It takes a very long time for those small increases to have any noticeable effect, but they add up over time, hence why older wizards are often terrifyingly powerful.  By comparison, affinities are much easier to train. _

‘Hang on, though… You said that the soul is what determines the strength of one’s magic.  Didn’t you split your soul, though? Wouldn’t that weaken you?’

_ Ah, yeah, the horcruxes. _

‘Horcrux?’

_ Shush, I’m about to explain.  See, the soul is always treated as a complete object, no matter how many pieces it may be in.  So, as long as part of the soul is bound to the world, any remnants of the soul will be prevented from passing on.  A horcrux is an artefact that has a part of a soul bound to it, so that the main soul cannot pass on. Technically, any horcruxes with a will could persist as well, should their container be destroyed, though I’m probably the only one in history who could do that.  Imbibing a horcrux with will is no easy task, after all. Any other soul fragments without a will to persist would dissipate and fade into limbo. _

‘You still didn’t explain why splitting the soul doesn’t weaken you.’

_ Oh, right.  As I said, a divided soul is still considered a complete object.  So, even if the soul is in multiple containers… _

‘…You can still draw on its full strength.’

_ Exactly, so long as all the parts are bound, at least.  I couldn’t draw on my core self’s power, since she’s just a wraith, but I can use the strength of all the other fragments. _

‘So, my spells are coming out too powerful because…’

_ Because your soul is bound to that of an adult witch of above average power.  Your magic is over twice as strong as it was before., possibly even moreso _

‘So, how do I fix it?’

_ By doing something you should have done ages ago: learn occlumency. _

 

* * *

 

As Tamelyn gives me instructions on how to reach a hidden room on the seventh floor, I ask the question that’s been bothering me.

‘Why did you tell me about horcruxes?  Isn’t the secret to your immortality the kind of sensitive info that you  _ wouldn’t _ want people knowing?’

_ You swore a binding magical oath to me not to reveal my secrets.  It binds you from making any slip ups and it prevents the secrets from being picked from your head by a legilimens.  The only way to break your oath to me is to do it intentionally, at which point, it will kill you. Also, understanding how horcruxes work will be vital to helping you learn to regulate your power.  Not only will you be able to restrain the power of your spells at will, you can overpower them as well. _

‘Like that cleaning charm you did?  Back at the Dursleys?’

_ Yes, like that.  Ah, hang on, there’s the tapestry.  We’re here. _

I look around the corridor.  There are no signs of any secret rooms, just a hideous tapestry of a wizard trying to teach trolls to dance.

_ You’ll love this.  Watch. _

Tamelyn shifts into control of my body and paces back and forth across from the tapestry.

_ I need a location perfect for occlumency meditation. _

As she makes her third pass past the tapestry, a door fades into existence on the wall across from it.  Tamelyn confidently strides over and opens the door, revealing a minimally decorated room with several mats in the middle.  The corners of the room emit a dim orange glow that has the same colour as the torches that light the rest of Hogwarts, but lack the distinctive flicker of flame.

_ Yes, this is perfect.  I love this room. I found out about it in my seventh year at Hogwarts when I was using legilimency to pick the minds of the school’s house elves for information. _

‘What does this room do?’

_ As far as I was able to tell, whatever you want it too.  I never got a lot of time to test the limits of what the room could and couldn’t do, unfortunately.  Dumbledore was stalking me throughout most of my seventh year, and I didn’t dare lead him somewhere as useful as this. _

‘That’s sensible’

_ Yes, now, let’s get started.  Take a seat on one of those mats and get comfortable; I suspect we’ll be here for a while. _

I cross my legs and take a seat on the mat, shifting around a bit until I feel comfortable.

_ Okay, good.  Now, occlumency has several aspects to it, but before you do anything, you need to discover the boundaries of your mind.  I’m going to  _ **_completely_ ** _ block myself off from you during this step, since the boundaries between us blur every time we communicate. _

‘Alright, so what do I need to do?’

_ Since we’re connected, you may find some of this easier.  Our minds are pressed right up against each other, so if you can find my barriers, you should be able to extrapolate the complete boundary of your mind from the shape of the boundary between us. _

‘Shape?  Seems like an odd choice of words.’

_ The words to explain the workings and properties of the mind don’t exist.  Now, focus on clearing your mind of stray thoughts while using magic to feel the edges of your mind.  I’m shutting myself out now. Good luck. _

If Tamelyn hadn’t been in my head for months, I don’t think I would have known where to get started.  Fortunately (or unfortunately; it’s been hard to keep track of how I feel about her), her constant presence has given me a general feel for the magical aspect of the mind.

I start by moving to the “area” of my mind where she is when she speaks to me.  Instead of feeling “her”, I feel a “wall” that blocks me off from her. I follow along the “wall” to the point where it ends.  From there, I can feel a very vague “boundary” that I focus on following. It’s hard to follow the boundary between “thoughts” and “non-thoughts”, since thoughts aren’t tangible things in the first place.  I trace the border several times, trying to memorise and solidify my understanding of where it is for several hours before I take a break.

Once I stop, it doesn’t take Tamelyn long before she pipes up.

_ Well, I hope you didn’t waste the whole time period.  How did you do? _

‘Alright, I think.  I mostly just sort of traced the border to feel it out.’

_ Alright, that’s good.  You probably could have started the next step if you were able to do that much, though I wasn’t able to tell you how to proceed, so whatever.  Try to continue the “border tracing” without actively meditating in the future — that’s the basis of creating barriers, though you obviously aren’t at that step yet.  We’ll do another meditation in a few days. _

 

* * *

 

Potions class is as unbearable as ever.  Snape’s unhelpful attitude towards teaching, his constant rude comments, and his constant leering make being in the classroom with him a highly unpleasant experience.  The awkwardness comes to a head when I turn my assignment in for the day. As I make eye contact with Snape, I feel an odd brushing sensation at the edges of my mind. I quickly break eye contact and move back to my desk.

‘What was that?’

_ Oh, you actually felt it?  That’s good — I’ll make a proper occlumens out of you, yet.  Snape was trying to browse your thoughts, though you severed the connection pretty quickly. _

‘Wait, what!?  He didn’t see anything, did he?’

_ Of course he didn’t.  Remember, oath? I also covered up the memory of you stealing ingredients for the polyjuice potion you made last year.  You’re welcome. _

‘Is it normally possible to do that?  Guard someone else’s memories?’

_ Of course it isn’t, but nothing about our situation is “normal”.  Technically speaking, our situation is “impossible”. Human horcruxes are impossible, as is the idea of two souls sharing a body without decaying the body in the process.  By all rights, we should either be in a state of partial possession and find ourselves at an unstable equilibrium that would eat away at your body, or we should have entered a contest of dominance in which one soul is destroyed by the other.  The two of us coexisting peacefully should  _ **_not_ ** _ have happened. _

‘I wouldn’t call our coexistence “peaceful”.’

_ Fair point, but my point still stands. _

‘So partial possessions cause the body to decay?’

_ You did see what Quirrell looked like at the end of your first year, right?  Before you burned him to ash, that is. _

‘They were both pretty gruesome.’

_ Well, what he looked like before you burned him is the usual result of a partial possession.  It’s also something that is somehow  _ **_not_ ** _ happening to the two of us.  I blame your soul ward. That thing is weird. _

‘I’d say I’m happy with the current situation, given that I am neither dying nor dead.’

_ Some hero you are.  You were more than willing to jump in the path of danger last year to save the damsel in distress.   Why not do it again for me? _

‘Because you are in no way a “damsel in distress”.  Damsels in distress don’t try and kill people or possess them.’

_ Hmph.  Fine, have it your way. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** Lots of Harry/Tamelyn conversations in this chapter. There will be a fair amount of those for a few more chapters before I start gradually diverging more heavily.
> 
> Trelawney’s predictions for Neville and Parvati are a dig at my other fanfic, Harry Potter and the Scrambled Sorting. 
> 
> Magical cores are a concept that many dislike, and not without reason. Most of the time, it’s just a lazy way to say “x character is super strong”. For this story, I used a more dynamic explanation that felt natural to me. I don’t know if any similar explanations have been done before, though. I only really used the term “core” because I didn’t feel like coming up with a new term when fanon’s given me one already. This explanation will probably also be canon for Harry Potter and the Scrambled Sorting, though I doubt I’ll include a description in that work.
> 
> The idea of the soul being treated as a single object even when divided was borrowed and slightly modified from The Historical Importance of Runic War Warding in the British Isles, a fem!Harry/Voldemort fic that is probably the best fic with said pairing.
> 
>  **E/N (Xgenje):** I honestly like the way a lot of the mechanics are fleshed out here. Can’t wait for the actual fleshing out later!
> 
> Also Bwahaha little evil dark lordy Potty.


	9. Fear

Most of the remaining classes pass by quickly.  Professor Grubbly-Plank showed us firecrabs in our first Care of Magical Creatures class, though she didn’t let us handle them at this early stage of the lesson.  Tamelyn pouted at not being able to get up close with the weird turtle-crustacean hybrids, though I was content to stay away from something with that many spikes on it.

When I arrive in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, I can already see that we’re in for a treat.  All of the desks have been pushed to the sides of the room, and a large, somewhat dusty wardrobe has been positioned in the room’s centre.

As the last few students trickle into the classroom, Lupin starts to address the class.

“Hello, everyone!  My name is Professor Lupin, and I will be responsible for teaching your Defence Against the Dark Arts class this year.  As you are all entering your third year, most of the material we’ll be covering will be related to countering and defending oneself from Dark Creatures.  As such, I thought we’d start our first class off with a practical lesson. Who here can tell me what a Boggart is?”

Hermione’s hand instantly shoots into the air, as is usual for her.  The moment Lupin gestures at her, she speaks up.

“A boggart is a type of phantasm.  It’s shapeless and doesn’t have a set form until someone gets near it, at which point it assumes a form representative of the nearest person’s greatest fear.”

Lupin nods.  “Very good, Miss Granger.  Five points to Gryffindor. Now then, normally when facing a boggart, you’ll want to have more than one person there, so that the boggart will either not know which form to take, or it will take the form of one person’s fear, but not the other’s, making it easy to dispatch.  That said, there is a specific Counter-Boggart Charm that we will be learning, and it also serves as a good introduction to Esoteric Magic. Who can define Esoteric Magic for me?”

Hermione’s hand shoots into the air, and she answers once more.

“Esoteric spells are spells which require an emotional component or visualisation rather than a wand movement.”

“Again, very good, Miss Granger.  Take another five points. Most forms of Esoteric Magic are nasty varieties of Dark Magic, although several defensive spells, such as the Patronus Charm, are also esoteric.  As Miss Granger said, the use of these emotions supplants the use of a wand movement, so they’re easy to cast given the right mindset. The Boggart-Banishing Charm, or Riddikulus Charm, requires the caster to imagine something humourous in the face of their greatest fear.  Now them, before we begin, I want each of you to imagine your greatest fear, so you’ll be prepared for whatever form the boggart may take. Then, I want you to imagine a way to make it funny, so that you can power the Riddikulus charm. I’ll give you a few minutes.”

The faces of the other students shift between fear and amusement as they work on visualising the contradicting ideas.  Meanwhile, my passenger accosts me over my own thoughts.

_ So, Harry, what’s your biggest fear?  What leaves you quaking in the knees, hm? _

‘Oh my God, why are you like this?’

_ Oh, quit your whining and answer my question. _

‘Well, I’m… not sure, actually.’

_ Really?  You don’t know what your biggest fear is? _

‘Well, at first I thought it might be your core self, but that doesn’t feel like the right kind of fear.  I also considered the dementor, but I think most of the fear I felt from that was vicariously through you.’

_ You’re not afraid of soul eating demons?  Seriously? _

‘Well, sure it sounds irrational when you put it that way.’

_ What part of “invincible monsters that can kill anything with a soul” isn’t scary?  For that matter, I’m kind of indignant that you don’t consider my core self terrifying. _

‘Look, they’re both scary, sure, but I would still be hesitant to label either one “my worst fear”.’

_ Well, think of something, before- _

“All right, that should be enough time for now.”  Lupin says. “Everyone, form a line, and you’ll each get a chance to face the boggart.”

Oh bollocks.

I move to the back of the line to give myself additional time to think.  As the line slowly inches forward, Tamelyn continues to pester me. 

_ Well, what are you afraid of? _

‘I don’t know!  Look, I’ll figure it out once I get there.’

_ Harry, you cannot keep running into situations with no plan.  You’ve already done it far too many times, and you can’t keep relying on luck to get you out of sticky situations. _

‘That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?’

_ Harry James Potter, I refuse to be taken advantage of in this way!  The moment I get my body back, I swear I’m goi- _

‘Whoops, looks like it’s time to face the boggart!  You’ll have to finish that threat later!’

_ Godsdammit, Potter! _

Professor Lupin looks extremely hesitant as I step up to face the boggart.  I really don’t know what I’m about to face, so I decide to face it head on and figure out a plan once I know what I’m up against.

_ You are such a fucking Gryffindor! _

The boggart hesitates for a moment, almost as though it doesn’t know how to approach a person with two consciousnesses.  Eventually, though, it shifts its form, and I find myself facing… well, the last thing I expected.

Tamelyn Riddle.

Not Lady Voldemort, but the adolescent Riddle I see in my dreams when she decides to pester me.

_ Seriously, your worst fear is me?  Not even my adult self, but my teenage self? _

‘Shut up.’

_ So, are you going to do something about it? _

‘I’m trying to think of the best way to approach this.’

_ Why? _

‘Because you’ll be pissed if I do something to publicly embarrass you, even if it’s only something that shares your likeness.’

_ Oh, yeah, I would.  You’re on your own, then, Harry. _

The boggart gives me the same half-charming, half-menacing grin that Tamelyn loves to use before she starts hissing at me.

“ _ §You and I are exactly the same, you know.  Both parselmouths, both parentless, both unloved, and both filled with an inner darkness.§ _ ”

“Shut up.”  I say, practically spitting the words.

“ _ §You are even better than me in some ways, you know.  I had yet to kill someone when I was your age, but you have already done that, have you not?  How did it feel, watching Quirrell’s body burn to ash beneath your touch? Did it feel like watching your aunt die?  Getting some long overdue justice for the atrocities they committed against you?§ _ ”

“Shut up!”  I keep my voice below a scream, but only barely.

“ _ §You liked watching her suffer, as much as you try and deny it.  You remembered every time that awful dog of hers tormented you, every awful comment she addressed to you.  But you got the last laugh in the end, didn’t you? How many others do you want to squash under your boot? How many other of your tormentors are unworthy of the life they were given?§ _ ”

“ _ §Shut up!§ _ ”  I hiss, barely cognizant of my lapse into Parseltongue.

_ Oh, this is just sad, really.  Give me a moment and I’ll take care of her. _

Tamelyn shifts into control and is about to cast the spell when the boggart changes its form again, the imposing form of Tamelyn being replaced by the cloaked form of a dementor.  I feel a flash of panic flow from her mind before it’s quashed down and replaced with smugness.

“You’re not a real dementor.”  She says. “The real deal is much scarier.   _ Riddikulus! _ ”

The dementor bursts into vibrant blue flames, emitting an ear-splitting screech as it burns.  I feel Tamelyn struggling to hold in maniacal laughter at the sight.

_ This is an incredibly satisfying result.  I wish I could do this to a real version of one of those parasites. _

‘I’m… glad you’re enjoying yourself.’

Professor Lupin steps in front of the boggart, ending its otherworldly screams as it shifts into the form of the full moon.  Lupin casts the Riddikulus charm, causing it to cloud over. Before the boggart has time to recover, Lupin casts a banishing charm, knocking it back into the cupboard.

“All right,” he addresses the class, “That ends our practical lesson for the day.  I expect seven inches on boggarts this time next week. Class dismissed!”

As the students file out of the room, I linger behind.  Once most of the class has left, I approach Professor Lupin.

“So… Are you willing to teach me the Patronus Charm?”  I ask. “You did say that you would teach me if I could handle the boggart.”

A flash of hesitance crosses Lupin’s face.  “It is a  _ very _ advanced charm, Harry…”

“Please, professor?  I’d really like to avoid passing out near dementors again if I can help it.” 

Lupin looks like he has quite a few questions he’d like to ask, though he refrains from doing so with the remaining students around.

“I… suppose you’ve done well enough to warrant me giving you some private lessons on it, though I’ll need some time to iron out my curriculum before doing that.  Could you stop by my office this Sunday? I’d appreciate the chance to talk to iron out a few details.”

“Sure.  I’ll see you then, Professor?”

Lupin nods affirmatively, so I take my leave.

_ I hope we have more practical lessons like that.  It was quite fun. _

‘Yes, yes.’

 

* * *

 

“I’m fine, Hermione.”  I assure her. I am most definitely not fine, but given that talking to her about my issues would kill me (stupid oath), it’s easier just to assure her that I’m fine.

Hermione clearly doesn’t believe me.  “Harry, your greatest fear was a girl talking to you in Parseltongue-”

“A really attractive girl.”  Ron interjects.

Hermione shoots him a nasty glare before continuing.  “-and then your boggart spontaneously shifted forms into a dementor, a dementor which you proceeded to kill with fire!”

“My ears are still ringing from those screams…”  Ron complains.

“To be fair, it was funny to see a supposedly invincible demon screaming in pain.   And it didn’t die. It would take far more than a creative Riddikulus charm to kill a boggart.”  I say, parroting the information Tamelyn feeds me.

“That’s not the point!”  She shrieks. “Why did your boggart change form, anyways!  I’ve never read anything to suggest that they could do that!”

I shrug.  “The first form wasn’t as scary as I expected it would be.  The boggart probably picked up on that and changed forms.”

“Is that even possible?”

_ No, it isn’t. _

“It seems quite possible to me.”  I lie.

_ You should be thankful that your bookworm friend doesn’t know a thing about the mind arts, or she might catch on to your lie. _

‘Then it’s a good thing that she doesn’t.’

Hermione huffs and goes on to her next class.  The moment she’s out of earshot, Ron moves closer to me.

“So, who was that bird your boggart turned into, anyway?  She was pretty hot, you know?”

I barely stop myself from sputtering at Ron’s admission.

_ To be fair, I am very attractive. _

‘And with modesty to match.’

“Just a random girl.”  I say. “I’m not fond of how my Parselmouth ability made me into a pariah last year.”   Which is true, if not the entirety of the reasoning behind my boggart’s form.

_ I’m half tempted to say you should have answered his question honestly, but that would test the limits of your oath.  As it is, I think we’re at enough risk should Dumbledore find out that your boggart is a perfect duplicate of what I looked like as a teenager.  There is no logical way you should have that information. _

‘Bugger.  I didn’t even think about that.’

_ If word of this gets back to him, he’s likely going to take this as definitive proof that I was involved in last year’s Chamber incident.  If he does, then he’ll probably assume that I found a way to block off your memories that doesn’t involve obliviation. Something that would leave an intact memory of my teenage appearance repressed somewhere in your mind. _

‘Well, you were involved in the chamber, and you did find a way to block my memories without using obliviation.’

_ Yes, but if he finds out, then he’ll start looking into my possible whereabouts.  I have no idea where my core self is, but I can assure you that she was nowhere near here last year.  If he even  _ **_suspects_ ** _ that I made horcruxes, then I’m in big trouble, and thus, you are also in big trouble.  If, gods forbid, he suspects that you yourself are a horcrux, then your life is forfeit. _

‘Great.  So what’s our next step?’

_ More occlumency meditation.  We need you to the point where you have solid mental defences as soon as possible.  The less information Dumbledore can glean from your mind without me protecting you, the better. _

‘Room of Requirement, then?’

_ The Room of Requirement. _

 

* * *

 

_ This next step builds on the border tracing you’ve been doing.  You need to find the edge of your mind, but rather than focusing on following it, you need to focus on reinforcing it.  You need to start reinforcing the idea of the “border” with the idea of a “barrier”. Doing so will grant a pseudo-tangibility to the edge of your mind, making it harder for a legilimens to get into your mind without putting in additional effort.  Of course, the more effort is put into a legilimency probe, the easier it is to detect, so you’ll be in a better position to cut off any probes that get through your defences. Think you’ve got it? _

‘Um, yeah, I think so.’

_ Good.  I’m shutting myself off now.  Be back in a few hours. _

I feel a shift in my mind as Tamelyn closes her mind off from me.  The meditation exercises she’s been having me do have gradually increased my awareness of what goes on in our more-or-less shared mind.

I focus on finding the border of my mind, then reaching out and “touching” it.  I try to create barriers like walls several times, but each one just collapses back into nonexistence shortly after making it.   After my fifth attempt disintegrates back into the void of thought, I begin to wonder if I’ve been approaching this wrong.

Fundamentally, I don’t grasp concrete ideas well (a trait that has led me to have seemingly endless conflicts with Hermione), and I’ve been trying to make barriers out of very concrete ideas (literal concrete, in this case).  Maybe, I should stop focusing on the finer details and simply focus on the idea? Or at least use a less conceptually complicated idea than something as intricate as concrete?

Feeling emboldened, I reach out to the edge of my mind, and try and place the  _ idea _ of barriers at the edge of my mind.  I feel satisfaction as the idea sticks and doesn’t dissolve like the others did.  Unfortunately, the moment I touch it, it collapses.

Okay, so that’s also a dud.

So, I can’t maintain solid ideas, and raw concepts seem to be the equivalent of a cardboard cutout.  I pull back to the centre of my mind and wait for a new idea to strike me.

As the minutes tick by, an idea begins to build in my head.

What if, instead of building barriers at the border, I turn the border itself into a barrier?

It’s not really so much creating an idea as it is turning an existing idea into a different form.  After all, the border would still exist, it would just have an inherent metaphysical tangibility to it.

(A small part of me wonders just what my life has turned into that I used the phrase “metaphysical tangibility” unironically.  Probably _ her _ influence.)

I move back to the edge of my mind, and push my awareness into the border.  I focus on expanding my awareness to encompass the whole border rather than the one subsection I “touched”.  As I hold the idea of the border in my awareness, I start turning the idea of a “border” into the idea of a “barrier”.  I have no true sense of the passage of time while doing this, but I can tell that the process takes a while. Once I’m satisfied with the “solidity” of my efforts, I pull back and relax, pushing on the border a few times to see how “solid” it is.  It resists most of the efforts I make to break it, though I also don’t try very hard. I’d hate to undo all of my effort.

I withdraw from the mental representation of my mind and instead focus on using the remaining time for relaxation.  When Tamelyn finally reawakens, she’s a lot less pleased than I would have expected.

_ Well, I would have hoped you’d make  _ **_some_ ** _ progress. _

‘Hey!  I thought I did a pretty decent job, given my difficulties!’

_ Harry, whatever difficulties you had made all of your efforts worth nothing.  There was nothing stopping me from entering your mind once I opened my barriers up to you.  Literally nothing. _

‘They worked fine when I tried to break them!’

I feel Tamelyn moving around in my mind, a wholly uncomfortable sensation that I’ve (unfortunately) grown used to.

_ I don’t see any barriers. _

I explain the process I used to her, how I didn’t make barriers from any solid concepts, but from changing the properties of the edge of my mind.

_ …You always have to find the weirdest way to go about doing things, don’t you? _

‘Hey!’

_ Don’t you “hey” me!  I have never heard of anyone doing something like this.  Hold on for a sec, I’m going to check the edges of your mind. _

After a second, I feel a prodding at the edge of my mind, though it’s coming from the inside, a wholly bizarre twist to an already bizarre feeling.

_ Huh.  There actually  _ **_are_ ** _ barriers here.  Highly unusual barriers, but barriers nonetheless.  If there are barriers, though, then why wasn’t I kept out… _

‘I’m as in the dark about this as you are.  You’re the Mind Arts specialist, after all.’

_ …Oh.  Oh dear.  I have an idea, though I’m not sure I like the implications of it. _

Tamelyn’s presence retreats from my mind, and a minute later, she speaks up.

_ Okay, it’s not really  _ **_bad_ ** _ , but it’s also not really good, either?  In any case, I know why I wasn’t kept out.  When you solidified the border at the edge of your mind, you didn’t create borders between us because there was no border between us.  I dropped part of my barriers, and just outside them I found your solidified border. _

‘So, why is that bad?’

_ Harry, that means that, as far as the magic is concerned, there  _ **_is_ ** _ no border between us.  My occlumency shields are the only thing clearly defining what is you from what is me. _

‘Oh.  Yeah, that’s… I don’t really know how to feel about that.’

_ Yeah.  I really need to start my research into soul magic, soon, both for the sake of finding out what’s going on between us as well as finding a way to get me out of your head.  I’m really glad I got that book before coming to Hogwarts — it would have been a pain to track down otherwise. _

 

* * *

 

_ Yes, Harry, this is absolutely necessary!  I have been stressing out over this since I first heard what Dumbledore told you in the infirmary!  I’m already annoyed we had to wait until the second weekend of the school year, lest we draw Dumbledore’s attention to our actions!  Now we are going to sneak out of your room and go down to the Chamber of Secrets and check on my “pet killer snake”, as you insist on calling her.  Now put on your invisibility cloak. We can use the Room of Requirement to get in easily. _

‘Hang on, the Room of Requirement can get us into the Chamber?  And why use the Room instead of one of the other entrances?’

_ Well, probably.  Like I said, I didn’t have a lot of time to test how the room works, but in the past, I was able to use it to create passages to go anywhere in the school.  It should…  _ **_probably_ ** _ work to get us into the Chamber.  I’m not sure if the Chamber is technically part of the school, though since it’s within the Hogwarts wards, it should still work.  As for the why, I’m not certain that the entrances aren’t being monitored, since the culprit from last year’s incident was never caught. _

‘…Alright, fine, let’s go.’

I slip on the cloak and silence my footsteps.  As I approach the entrance to the common room, Tamelyn stops me.

_ Right, I forgot your common room is guarded by a portrait.  I’d rather not have anyone witnessing us leave the common room, so let me just… _

Tamelyn pulls out my wand and points it at the exit.

_ Confundo! _

A slight blur of magic escapes my wand, colliding with the back of the portrait frame.

_ Alright, move quickly before she recovers! _

I slip out of the common room and begin making my way through the seventh floor towards the tapestry with the dancing trolls on it.  Tamelyn shifts into control as I turn into the corridor with the tapestry, and paces in front of the tapestry once she reaches it.

_ I need to get into the Chamber of Secrets. _ Just like the last two times, the door fades into existence, though this time, the room itself appears as a small antechamber with a spiral staircase leading downwards.

‘No slide this time?’

_ Slide?  No, of course not. _

‘The entrance in Myrtle’s bathroom was a slide.’

_ …I can’t believe you.  You used the basilisk’s entrance.  You know, there was a staircase hidden behind a wall  _ **_next_ ** _ to the sinks, so you didn’t have to go down the filthy pipes. _

‘Oh.  Well, the slide was faster.’

_ It’s also filthy! _

‘The whole Chamber is filthy!’

_ …Yeah.  I need to clean it up.  I meant to do that when I was still at Hogwarts, but it became increasingly hard to get into the Chamber unnoticed, so cleaning the place ultimately became a low priority.  If we could just get Dumbledore killed, then we could have unfettered access to the Chamber. _

‘…I don’t like Dumbledore, but I refuse to help you murder him.’

_ Well of course we’re not going to  _ **_murder_ ** _ him.  We’d simply have to kill him by proxy.  Or arrange for him to be sacked. We’d just have to leave a curse on an artefact he’s going to handle, or poison a bottle of wine that someone plans on gifting him. _

‘…Tamelyn, those are both terrible ideas.’

_ …Yeah.  I need to spend more time coming up with some better ideas for how to discreetly kill someone.  I’ve been too heavily reliant on Tessie, and I’d hate to risk her by sending her up against someone as powerful as Dumbledore.  I could actually imagine him beating her, and I refuse to endanger her in such a way. _

‘Do you care about anyone besides your snake?’

_ Hm… Well, I don’t want you to die, but I consider that self-preservation.  Does that count? _

‘…No.  No, that doesn’t count.’

_ In that case, no, I don’t care about anyone besides my snake. _

We withdraw from our conversation and settle into one of our odd silences as I continue to walk down the staircase.

‘How far down does this thing go?’

_ Quite a while, probably.  We started on the seventh floor, and the Chamber is well below the dungeons, so we’re probably going to have to go down at least twenty floors or so. _

‘Twenty floors!?’

_ The normal passages back to the castle aren’t nearly as long since they operate on the same non-euclidean principles that the rest of Hogwarts uses.  I should have been more specific when making the room, and requested a  _ **_short_ ** _ path to the Chamber of Secrets.  Oh well, that’s a lesson for next time. _

‘Why don’t we just go back up and do that?'

_ Because we’re already more than halfway there.  Going back to recreate the passage would make it a longer trip. _

‘The trip back up would be shorter, though.’

_ Actually, any passages made by the Room of Requirement are one-way and disappear the moment they’re unoccupied.  We’re going to have to use one of the standard entrances to get out of here. _

I move down another two spirals on the staircase before I finally reach the bottom.  A short hallway connects the bottom of the stairs to what I quickly recognise as the main hallway leading to the central chamber.

_ Hmm, looks like it put us near the third floor corridor entrance.  That’s interesting. _

‘How so?’

_ I had no idea where it would bring us.  I was just curious where we’d end up. Now, let’s get to the main chamber so I can show you how to access the inner sanctum. _

I start trudging through the thin layer of water covering the floor as I make my way down the hallway.

_ As soon as I have a body back, I’m moving “cleaning this place” to the top of my list of priorities.  It’s a disgrace to the legacy of Salazar that his chamber has fallen to such a state. _

‘I can’t say I care much for the legacy of Salazar.’

_ Well that’s a pity.  He’s your ancestor, too, you know, and he was something of a genius to boot.  You shouldn’t be ashamed of your heritage. I’ll make some copies of his journals so you can read about him when you have a chance. _

‘Whatever suits you.’

As I turn the next corner, I recognise the entrance to the main chamber.  I hiss at the two intertwined snakes, and once again, the stone wall parts as they slither to the sides.

The main chamber is just as grand, and I have more time to appreciate the intricate carvings making up the room’s decoration now that someone’s life isn’t at stake.  The large and imposing relief of Salazar Slytherin’s face stares across the room from the far side of the Chamber.

_ It’s in there.  Do you remember the password? _

‘Yeah, I do, actually.’

As I walk across the room, my attention is drawn to a large series of scorch marks on the ground.

_ Oh my, I can detect some faint traces of Fiendfyre here.  Looks like whatever team came down here to fight the basilisk didn’t hold back.  I’m more glad than ever that I left a construct for them to kill rather than instruct Tessie to flee.  It’s probably a good thing that they used something as destructive as Fiendfyre. Without a corpse to examine, they may not have been able to realise they fought a construct rather than the real thing. _

‘Would it have been that obvious?’

_ Yes.  There was no sacrifice to power the creation of the basilisk construct — just some cheap shortcuts to make a roughly animated duplicate — and without that, the construct lacked any inherent magic.  It still would have been a very tough, spell resistant snake, but it would have lacked the lethal gaze or magically destructive venom of an authentic basilisk. Anyways, we’ve wasted enough time as it is.  Let’s go. _

I stare up at Slytherin’s face as I approach, before I hiss the entrance phrase.

“ _ §Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.§ _ ”

The statue’s mouth grinds open, and I walk through the opening into a large, round room made from highly smooth stone.  On the back wall is a bizarre, squiggly script that I realise I can somehow read.

‘“Speak your tongue and show your blood to show your worth as Salazar’s heir”?’

_ Yep, this is the inner sanctum entrance.  Do you want to do the honours of opening it, or should I? _

‘I think I’d rather you do it.’

_ Suit yourself. _

I feel her shift into control of my body.  She casts a low-powered cutting charm on the palm of my hand and smears a streak of blood down the wall.

“ _ §May the blood of Slytherin grant me entrance§ _ .”

As soon as the last hiss is spoken, the wall absorbs the blood and opens up to reveal a large and ornate antechamber with a very,  _ very _ large serpent coiled in the room’s centre.

‘I still think she’s scary.’

_ She’s adorable.  You’re just biased.  The real question is if she’s alive… _

I feel waves of trepidation and anxiety emanating from Tamelyn as she walks up the serpent’s huge coils.  She rests a single hand on the snake’s hide and holds it there for a minute.

_ Yes!  She’s still alive!  That’s a huge burden off my shoulders. _

‘She’s not moving.’

_ Of course she’s not moving.  She’s hibernating. A basilisk doesn’t grow to her size without being able to conserve energy. _

‘Oh.  When will she wake up, then?’

I do my best to hide my feelings of skepticism towards the snake’s supposedly friendly demeanor.  As far as I’m concerned, the longer the snake stays asleep, the better.

_ She’ll awake when I call for her.  Much as I’d love to spend some time enjoying her company, waking up is an unpleasant process for her, and she needs all the energy she can get after being so active last year. _

‘Ah.’

_ And while we’re down here, I said I’d get some copies of Salazar’s journals.  Let me make some copies. I’d rather not bring the originals, given their historic value.  I think I left some blank journals in one of these cabinets when I was still a student… _

Tamelyn starts rummaging through the various cabinets until she finds a blank journal that she’s certain doesn’t contain any invisible or concealed messages.

_ All right, now you get to learn an incredibly obscure spell.  Watch this. _

Tamelyn places the blank journal atop one of Salazar’s journals, presses her wand to the front cover of the blank journal, and silently mutters “ _ Rescripto _ ”.  As soon as the incantation is muttered, the blank journal flies open and the first page begins filling with words.

_ The spell is generally impractical, since almost every book worth copying has anti-copying spells on it.  I learned it since certain ancient books lack that protection. _

‘What sort of ancient books were you reading that required copying?’

_ Books on Soul Magic.  They’re far too rare nowadays to warrant using originals, and I wasn’t about to split my soul without doing research first.  I’m not the sort to do something that dramatic without making sure I understand what I’m doing and having contingencies in place. _

‘Alright, then.  How long will the journal copying take?’

_ The Rescription Charm generally takes around an hour to copy an entire book, though long books with lots of diagrams can take much longer.  Since we’ll be here for a bit, I’m going to spend some time with Tessie. _

Tamelyn conjures a chair next to the basilisk’s sleeping form and idly rubbing the snake’s scales.  I lose track of time, not having anything to do, since I’m not in control of my body, and I don’t feel like wresting control back from her over something as silly as boredom.

Once the journal flips closed, Tamelyn grabs it and walks over to the basilisk for a final parting message.

“Sleep for now, darling.  I’ll give you all the time you need.”

 

* * *

 

I wake up late the next day, having spent several hours in the Chamber of Secrets instead of sleeping like most people do.  When I wake up, I am surprised to find that my body is not under the covers, but sitting upright in my bed, staring at countless sheets of parchment filled with indecipherable equations.

‘Um, Tamelyn?’

_ Oh, hey, you’re awake.  Don’t mind me. _

‘What the hell are all these equations?’

_ Arithmancy.  I’m trying to check the numbers on some of the rituals I can use to get myself out of your body.  So far, my main plan seems like it will work, which is good, since it’s the least complicated. At least, the soul magic part of it will work.  I’m not sure about the blood alchemy part. _

‘Oh, great, so how long will it take?’

_ Well, there are a few… factors that are currently unaccounted for.  I could probably have the ritual ready to go in… a year or so? Give or take.  I’ll have to play several of these things by ear. Shouldn’t take more than three years, tops. _

‘…Great.’

_ Anyways, I’ll need to double check these equations and start looking into blood alchemy to make sure the whole plan is viable.  There’s a lot of prep work to do. Also, you should probably get lunch since your body’s been awake nonstop for more than twenty-four hours at this point.  Also, Lupin wanted you to stop by this afternoon, so you better get moving. _

‘What about you?’

_ Me?  I’ve been awake for over twenty four hours, just like your body.  I am going to get some sleep. If I stay awake for any longer, I’ll risk compromising my judgement, which is the last thing either of us want.  I’ll probably be awake again in a few hours. Needing less sleep is one of the advantages of not having a body. _

Tamelyn’s presence fades into the inactive state she takes when she’s no longer “awake”.  Shaking my head once again at the oddities of what magic enables the mind to do, I throw on some clothes and head down to the Great Hall.  The moment I start running, the exhaustion hits me. I may feel mentally awake, but my body is very clearly unrested, and I climbed a lot of stairs last night (stupid subterranean Chamber).

When I get down to the Great Hall, it’s nearly empty, one of the advantages of going there in between mealtimes.  I devour as much food as I can manage to fit in my stomach, trying desperately to give my body the energy it’s demanding for being kept awake for so long.

I’m going to have to request that Tamelyn keep any future nighttime activities to a minimum.

A second later, I realise the double entendre that I inadvertently made.

I am quickly growing to hate the distractions puberty is bringing me.  I try to push all my conflicting emotions aside so that I can keep my focus limited to breakfast.

I wonder if that’s where Ron got his eating habits from?  I can’t deny that there’s a convenience to focusing on one’s meal as opposed to one’s emotional issues.

I shake my head, trying to clear my mind — an act which comes to me much less easily than it has in the past.  I’m so used to having another presence in my mind that my mind just starts wandering without her there.

…Oh God, the emotions are back.

I rest my forehead on the table in exasperation.  I think puberty is my new least-favourite thing.

 

* * *

 

After a few hours of trying to distract myself from my thoughts by playing several games of chess with Ron, I head towards Lupin’s office so I can meet with him.  I hope he’ll be able to distract me better than Ron could. I’m beginning to really hate being alone with my thoughts.

Lupin tells me to come in shortly after I knock on the door to his office, and as soon as I enter, I see him hunched over his desk, grading a stack of papers.  After he works his way through the one he’s currently grading, he looks up and smiles at me.

“Hello, Harry.  How have you been settling into the new school year?”  He asks genially.

I’m a bit taken aback by the idea of an adult actually checking up on me, though I think I manage to hide my surprise about that fact pretty well.

“I’m… doing fine, I guess, sir.”

“Since it’s just the two of us in here, Harry, you can call me Remus.”

I pause again at the odd behaviour coming from the professor.  Calling a teacher by their first name, even in private, is the exact opposite of the behaviour I’ve been led to believe is appropriate.  Still, it seems like it would be rude to refuse.

“Alright then… Remus.”  It feels weird to say.

A silence draws out between us before Lupin speaks up again.

“I was… surprised by your performance in class the other day.  I would have expected your worst fear to be Lady Voldemort, yet neither of the two forms your boggart took were her.”

Well, that’s not actually true, though I can hardly blame him for not recognising my boggart as “Lady Voldemort” in her adolescence.  I certainly wouldn’t have guessed it if she hadn’t told me herself.

“Well, at first, I think it was picking up on one of my issues from last year.  I’m a parselmouth, and I got a lot of flak for that once knowledge of it came out.”

Lupin seems genuinely surprised at the revelation that I’m a parselmouth.  Wouldn’t Dumbledore have told him about the events of last year once Lupin took the job?

…What am I saying?  It’s Dumbledore. Of course he didn’t.

Lupin speaks up after another pause.  “I’m very surprised to hear that. Any idea where you got the ability?  I know for a fact that none of the Potters have the skill.”

I shrug.  “Mum may have been descended from a squib line.  I’ve heard that most muggleborns have wizarding ancestry somewhere, so it’s conceivable that she was a Parselmouth and never realised it.”

Lupin seems struck by what I just told him.  “I… I can’t believe she never… I would have thought we’d have noticed.  Then again, even she may not have known… It’s not as though one runs into snakes very often, so she may not have had an opportunity to do so…”

“Did you know my mum, sir, err, Remus?”

He smiles.  “A bit. I knew your father as well.  If you’d like, I can tell you about them sometime.  I’ll let you know when I’m free. Anyways, going back to the boggart, why did you have trouble dispatching it at first?”

“Well, I was trying to think of something that wouldn’t have been embarrassing.  I may not care for being a parselmouth, but it felt wrong to do something to a random girl just because of an ability she was born with.”  Which would have been true if it  _ was _ in fact a random girl, and not the sociopath I share a body with.

“Did it change because you weren’t as afraid of Parseltongue as much as you thought?”

I was terrified, though not of the Parseltongue.  Really, the number of similarities between Tamelyn and myself is disturbing.  If I was pushed just a little, could I become the type of maniac that Voldemort became?  Could I cut down entire families if I just stopped caring about what happened to people?

“That sounds about right, si- …Remus.”

Lupin smiles at my slip-up before he speaks.  “Still, though, I’m surprised your boggart took the form of a dementor.  That’s very mature, in my opinion. It shows that what you fear most is fear itself.”

Oh, well that’s just rubbish.

“Professor, I’m not afraid of dementors for that reason.”

Lupin stares at me quizzically, so I elaborate further.

“The fear they create is bad, don’t get me wrong, but it’s bearable, even if it does make me pass out.  I’m more afraid of their ability to suck out souls, though.”

Another pause fills the room, this one much more awkward.

“I’d rather not lose my soul, sir.”  I say.

Lupin sighs.  “Yes, right, I suppose I was rather presumptuous, there.  Well, if you’d like to learn the Patronus Charm, then having a dementor for a boggart should make for a good practice target.  I should be able to get it set up in a few weeks. Does that sound good to you?”

I nod earnestly.  “It does. Thank you, professor.”

Lupin dismisses me after that, and it’s only when I’m halfway to Gryffindor tower that I realise that, since my boggart isn’t a dementor, Tamelyn will have to be the one to learn the Patronus Charm.

That complicates matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** Ah, lots of stuff in this chapter.
> 
> Hagrid is not the CoMC teacher. Without a clear culprit for the Chamber incident, he was never fully exonerated. He is no longer held in Azkaban, but he didn’t have the mark removed from his record. The wizarding justice system operates on Ace Attorney principles. Someone has to go to jail.
> 
> The boggart scene was one of the earliest scenes I had planned, though it came out differently than I expected. The original concept had the boggart nearly spill several important secrets in plain English, rather than parseltongue, and Tamelyn took over to take it out before it said something really sensitive. Tamelyn’s boggart was originally a personification of death and she froze up in fear at the sight of it. In the end, I decided to make Harry freeze at the boggart, not knowing how to take it down without embarrassing Tamelyn, and Tamelyn got canon Harry’s dementor boggart. An earlier draft did have Tamelyn laugh maniacally at the boggart as it burned, but it flew too heavily in the face of her love of subtlety, as amusing as the scene was.
> 
> The occlumency bit is the first hint I have towards a concept I’ve had planned for this story since I first started writing it. It won’t be elaborated on, until later, but I’m glad to have introduced it.
> 
> I decided not to kill the basilisk. The decision was partly a whim, and partly and opportunity to show Tamelyn’s softer side.
> 
> Lots of fics are mean to Remus, and not without reason. I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt, here (and I’ll probably do something similar with him in Scrambled Sorting, though don’t expect a rehash)
> 
> Special thanks to Foadar for helping with editing
> 
>  **E/N (Xgenje):** At the rate harry is learning these big words he is going to have a more profound vocabulary then I…. Then again, all the wording is coming from Tendra…
> 
> On a more important note. Indeed is probably one of my favorite “snobby” words.


	10. Terror

Despite Tamelyn’s assurance that she wouldn’t make my body pull all-nighters while I sleep, I still wake up surrounded by parchments covered in complex equations more than I care for.

As such, I am not surprised to find that my body is once again up and moving without my consent.  What  _ does _ surprise me is that I am neither in my bed nor surrounded by equations, but walking out towards the quidditch pitch surrounded by the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

_ Oh, thank gods, you’re awake!  The maniac you have for a Team Captain is insisting on a five a.m. practice session and no one’s been able to talk him out of it!  I am absolutely rubbish at flying on a broom, let alone Quidditch maneuvers! Also, I am  _ **_super_ ** _ bad at convincingly acting like you, and I really don’t want to be in control when everyone else finally wakes up enough to notice how unconvincing I am!  Look, I’ll just hand control back to you, alright? _

I find myself thrust back into control of my body mid-stride, which predictably sends me toppling to the ground.

_ Oops.  Sorry. I’ve kind of been worrying about this for a while and I may have been a little rash there. _

‘How long have I been awake?’

_ You just woke up.  I thought that was kind of obvious. _

‘No, I mean… How long has my body been awake?’

_ Oh, uh, an hour and a half, maybe?  I woke up at four and got in about an hour of work before your loon of a Quidditch Captain barged in and told me he was starting practice early this year.  I kept trying to wake you up, but you were sleeping  _ **_way_ ** _ too soundly for me to do anything so I was forced to play along for a while and then I started realising that if you didn't wake up then I'd have to actually fly and I  _ **_really_ ** _ hate brooms and I'm honestly still not happy that you'll be flying, but better you than me, and- _

'Tamelyn, please, for the love of God, stop panicking.'

_ I do not panic! _

'Your emotional state says otherwise.'

_ …I am going to have to find a way to stop you from feeling my emotions, aren't I? _

'Well you can always totally block yourself off from me.'

_ If I do that, then I can't see or hear what you're doing.  I am still not convinced that without me guiding you, you'll not get us both killed. _

'I'm not that reckless!'

_ You tried to fight a basilisk!  With no plan! They are magic's perfect killing machine, and you, a mere second year, strode into the heart of enemy territory knowing full well that there was a basilisk!  Parselmouth or not, that is beyond foolish! _

'Will you stop going on about that?  You bring it up every time you doubt my sense of self-preservation.'

_ Because it was  _ **_that bloody stupid!_ **

'Oh really?  And what was your plan when  _ you _ opened the chamber?  Did you even  _ have _ a plan?'

_ Of course I did.  The moment the basilisk showed any signs of turning on me, I'd burn it with Fiendfyre.  A wholly unnecessary precaution, in hindsight. Tessie is a big softie. _

I roll my eyes at her continued affection towards that damn snake while Wood drones on about plans and strategies for the upcoming season.  I admire his dedication, but the… single-mindedness of his focus is severely grating at any point that isn't during an actual game. As I sit there listening to his lectures, an idea occurs to me.

'Why am I even here?'

_ Why are you asking me?  I hate quidditch. _

'It's just… Seeker is a solitary role.  I don't need any "plans" beyond good eyesight and maneuverability.'

_ I mean, there are several strategies that use the Seeker to disrupt enemy play. _

'I thought you hated Quidditch?'

_ I do, but all the Slytherin pure-bloods were ravenous over the sport, no matter how calm and collected about it they pretended to be.  I just feigned interest so they wouldn’t give me crap about a “lack of team spirit”. _

'Your depressing social experiences aside, I don't play Seeker like that.  These sessions are worthless for me.'

_ Yeah, they are. _

'Well, this is shaping up to be a very boring morning.'

_ You could always talk to the delightful companion in your head to pass the time. _

'…Why not?  I seriously have nothing better to do.'

_ Good, now, let me explain the principles of Dark Magical Theory.  It's highly practical stuff, especially for someone who is constantly getting into near-death situations. _

Perhaps Wood was worth listening to after all.

 

* * *

 

_ Stop, stop, stop! _

Tamelyn's shouts pull me out of my dive, making me lose track of the Snitch I was chasing.

'Stop complaining!  It's not even that dangerous!  It's just flying!'

_ You were accelerating downwards faster than gravity!  How is that not dangerous!? _

'I was in complete control!'

_ You must have a highly dubious definition of "control", then! _

‘You have no right to be pissy just because I’m a better flyer than you!’

_ I can excel at anything I put my mind to! _

‘Then put your mind to shutting up and letting me focus!’

Eager to shake off my frustration, I pull into another dive, my feet skimming the grass as I pull up.  I do my best to ignore the waves of panic emanating from my companion.

‘You know, you’re taking all the fun out of this.’

_ Good!  Maybe you’ll stop doing it if you don’t find it fun! _

'You wish!'

_ I really do wish… _

I let out a deep sigh.

'Are you sure you can't just block yourself off from me for a while?  It would make this easier for both of us.'

_ Oh, and what do I do when someone jinxes your broom or tampers with a bludger?  I refuse to block myself off from you when you have already been in mortal danger while flying on  _ **_two_ ** _ separate occasions! _

'Both of those were your fault!'

_ I am not responsible for the actions of my core self or a mad house elf trying to "save" you! _

'Whatever.  Honestly, what are the odds that something will go wrong in Quidditch for the third year in a row?'

_ Now that you've thought that?  I'd say "guaranteed". _

'…Great'

 

* * *

 

My days gradually fade into a routine of sorts.  Classes, homework, Quidditch practice, and the occasional moment of waking up to find my body is already active.

That last one is highly annoying, though at least Tamelyn has refrained from pulling another all-nighter since our first delve into the Chamber.  With my mental companion constantly feeding me info, my homework and classwork are better than ever, though I insist on doing things on my own when I can get her to agree to it.  Schoolwork has become a sort of battle between us, with her desire to not be bored fighting against my desire for independence. Occlumency meditation is the only thing I’m left to do on my own, since it’s a solitary act by nature.

As October begins to fade into November, the first Hogsmeade visit approaches, one which I will actually be able to attend thanks to Tamelyn’s use of the imperius curse.  I am somewhat grateful for that, since I doubt I could have convinced Vernon to sign the permission slip without some serious coercion.

_ Technically, “serious coercion” is exactly what I did. _

‘The fact that you consider using a dark mind control curse to be “coercion” is why I know you have a bad moral compass.’

_ Excuse you!  There are far worse things than having a bad moral compass! _

‘Like what?’

_ Being stupid.  Or being boring.  Or, gods forbid, both.  At least I’m interesting. _

‘…Right.’

_ Besides, you have no right to complain about my moral compass when you hang out with Granger. _

‘What’s wrong with Hermione?’

_ She is utterly ruthless once she decides to abandon her adherence to the rules.  I suspect she only uses the rules in the absence of a proper sense of morality. _

‘Are you sure you aren’t projecting?  That doesn’t seem like the Hermione I know…’

_ She lit a teacher on fire to try and save you!  She lit the  _ **_wrong_ ** _ teacher on fire!  When she thought that Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin (which is a totally laughable idea, by the way), she decided that her best course of action was to brew a restricted potion made from stolen ingredients, then knock out some of your classmates and shove then into a closet while you took their place! _

‘Huh… I  _ suppose _ you may have a point.’

_ It’s a pity she’s so fixated on rules.  If she cut back a bit, she’d be a lot like I was at her age. _

‘I don’t think the world needs another you, Tamelyn.’

_ Yeah, you’re right.  I wouldn’t appreciate the competition. _

‘…That is  _ not _ the point I was trying to make.’

 

* * *

 

“So, are you excited to go to Hogsmeade?”  Hermione asks as we near the Entrance Hall.

“Yeah.”  I reply. “It will be nice to have something to do besides studying and Quidditch practice.”

“I get why you could get bored of studying,” Ron adds, ignoring Hermione’s glare, “but getting bored of Quidditch?  I could never do that.”

I sigh.  “It’s much easier to get bored of Quidditch when Oliver Wood is waking you up for five a.m. practices three times a week.”

Ron winces at the thought of having to get up that early.  “Yeah, it’s probably for the best that the only position I’m after is Keeper.  By the time I try out, Wood will be off the team.”

“Lucky…”  I murmur under my breath.

Hermione evidently heard me, as she immediately turns to face me.  “You know Harry, if you don’t enjoy it, you could always quit the team and join another club.”

Ron looks aghast at the prospect of quitting the team, while I’m simply confused.  “There are other clubs?” I ask.

_ Yeah, but they’re mostly stupid. _

‘Ah.’

“Of course there are!”  Hermione says, switch to her chastising lecture voice.  “There are clubs for games like Wizard’s Chess, Gobstones, and Exploding Snap.  There are probably some others, too, though those three are the most popular among Gryffindors.  I know there’s not a bookclub, though. It was one of the first things I checked.”

“I’ll stick with Quidditch.”  I say. “The practice times are a pain in the arse, but at least I have an excuse to fly.”

“Language!”  Hermione chides.

“Whatever.”  I reply. “It’s hard to find convenient times to fly when the pitch isn’t booked by one of the four Quidditch teams.  Being on a team circumvents the issue. Therefore, I will stay on the team.”

_ Much to my chagrin. _

‘Nobody asked you.’

Hermione starts grumbling about Quidditch and other sports, causing me to roll my eyes.  Hermione’s still in a bit of a tiff as we arrive at the carriages that take us to Hogsmeade, so we all remain quiet as we hand our permission slips to Filch and board the carriage.  My eyes linger on the thestral as we board; I still feel weirded out by my ability to see them.

_ I think you simply lack the ability to appreciate beauty. _

'You have the most twisted sense of beauty.'

_ Aw.  That's sweet of you to say! _

'That wasn't…!  Nevermind…'

About halfway there, Hermione pipes up, her earlier disquiet forgotten.

"So, where do you think we should go?  The Three Broomsticks is supposed to have the best butterbeer in Europe, and I'd love to visit Tomes and Scrolls to see what their book selection is!  Oh, and we should totally go see the Shrieking Shack! It's supposed to be the most haunted location in Britain!" She rambles.

_ I'm sorry, "The Shrieking Shack"?  You would think that "the most haunted location in Britain" wouldn't be less than fifty years old. _

'Hang on, what?'

_ I've never heard of the Shrieking Shack.  It was definitely not around when I was attending Hogwarts. _

'Huh.  That  _ is _ odd.  Was the building even around when you attended Hogwarts?'

_ I won't know until I see it.  If it did exist, it wasn't known by that name. _

'Well hey, if this turns up more questions, then we can do some investigation into it ourselves.  Neither one of us are the sort to let a mystery stay that unsolved.'

_ You're right about that Harry.  You're right about that… _

 

* * *

 

After lunch, a visit to Tomes and Scrolls (at Hermione’s insistence), and a visit to Zonko’s (at Ron’s insistence), we finally approach the Shrieking Shack.  The entire area surrounding the ramshackle house is fenced off over a hundred metres in every direction, with a small plaque describing the house placed in the small clearing nearest to Hogsmeade.  Hermione immediately rushes over to the plaque to read it. In the meantime, I feel Tamelyn shift into control of my body as she tries to identify the shack.

_ Hmm… I think I remember about this place.  It was owned by some reclusive old couple. I never came here, at least not personally, but I certainly don’t remember there being some sort of haunted house over here.  It seems we have something to look into, after all. _

‘Yeah, the fact that this place seems to have suddenly become extremely haunted is highly suspicious.  What would be a good place to start?’

_ Probably back issues of The Daily Prophet.  The library keeps a pretty decent store of them.  Sorting through them will be the hard part, since we don’t have a timeframe more specific than “between 1945 and now”. _

‘Good point.  I’ll try asking around and find the earliest reference to it being haunted.  That should hopefully help us shave at least a decade off of our search timeframe.’

_ Either way, it’ll be a lot of newspapers to look through… _

‘At least we can skim most of them.  I doubt we need to thoroughly read every article to figure out what the deal with this place is.

_ Fair point.  Well, this should help keep things interesting for a while.  I do  _ **_hate_ ** _ being bored. _

‘…Noted.’

 

* * *

 

After a final stop at Honeydukes, we head back to Hogwarts.  Unfortunately for me and Tamelyn, Hermione, for once in her life, doesn’t let us go to the library.

“Come on, Hermione!  I want to do research!”  I complain.

Hermione shoots me a glare.  “Attending the major feasts is mandatory unless an exemption is given by the Headmaster or a Head of one of the houses.

“Wait, really?”  I ask.

_ I didn’t know that, either. _

‘Guess that makes two of us.’

Hermione glares at me.  “Yes, really. I broke that rule my first year and I was attacked by a troll!  And then we broke the rule again last year by attending Sir Nicholas’s Deathday Party, and look where it got us!”

I groan.  “It’s not my fault that Quirrell released a troll into the school or that the Heir of Slytherin unleashed a basilisk.”

_ Yeah, it was actually  _ **_my_ ** _ fault.  Both times, technically, if you count core-me as being the same person.  You’re welcome. _

‘Nobody asked you.’

_ That’s never stopped me before. _

I roll my eyes, a gesture that Hermione unfortunately sees.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Harry!  This year, we are all attending the Halloween Feast so that we will have responsible adults to protect us and/or witnesses surrounding us as proof that we didn’t do anything!”  She says, clearly in full lecture mode at this point.

_ She actually does make a good point.  Having witnesses around is a great way to have an alibi ready, and you have had pretty bad luck when it comes to Samhain. _

I groan.  “Fine, I’ll attend the stupid feast so no one will think I’m involved in whatever goes wrong this year.”

Hermione immediately becomes smug and starts walking towards the Great Hall.

_ Oh, come on!  Don’t get too mopey!  We can always do research tomorrow.  You know, patience is a virtue. _

‘What would you know about virtues?’

_ Well that’s presumptive of you.  Just because I lack morals doesn’t mean that I don’t know the value of patience or hard work. _

‘…Right.

 

* * *

 

Around halfway through the feast, the ghosts show up.  Hermione begins animatedly speaking with Nearly Headless Nick.

“Hello, Sir Nicholas.  Did you have a happy deathday?”  She asks.

Nick regards her for a moment before going on about the politics of the Headless Hunt, at which point I rapidly lose interest.  Just as I’m about to turn back to my food, an idea hits me.

“Hey, Nick?  What do you and the other ghosts know about the Shrieking Shack?”

Nick turns to face me.  “Not very much, I’m afraid.  None of the ghosts even dare go there.”

‘Well that’s suspicious.’

_ Yes, it is. _

“When was the first reference you can remember to it being haunted?”  I ask.

Nick thinks for a moment.  “I can’t say for certain, although I believe it was sometime in the nineteen-seventies?  Time does get hard to keep track of when you’re dead…”

I nod.  “It’s fine.  Thanks for helping.”

_ Well, that narrowed our timeframe by about twenty years.  That should help. _

 

* * *

 

On my way up from the feast, I run straight into a large crowd that has accumulated in the corridor containing the Gryffindor common room entrance.

‘What the hell’s going on?’

_ Beats me.  Probably nothing life threatening, though, or there would be more panic. _

‘True.  Instead, people seem more confused than anything.’

It doesn’t take long for McGonagall to show up, and soon after that, Dumbledore makes an appearance as well, the two of them pushing their way through the crowd.  An increasingly confused crowd is directed back down to the Great Hall. I feel completely lost about what or why this is happening until we get down to the Hall itself.

Ron and Hermione push their way up to me and start asking me if I’m alright, which just gets me to raise an eyebrow.

“Why wouldn’t I be alright?”  I ask.

“Well…”  Hermione twists her hands.  “I mean, Sirius Black is supposed to be after you, and he was spotted in the school.”

“Woah, back up.”  I say. “Sirius Black was spotted in the school?  When?”

“Just now!”  Ron exclaims.  “He cut up the Fat Lady’s portrait, and Peeves heard her wailing about it as she ran away.”

Oh.  Well that’s unexpected.

“Um…  _ How _ did he get in?”  I ask. “Wasn’t the whole point of bringing in the Dementors to stop this from happening again?”

“I’m not sure.  But, I mean, he got past them once, so it’s not too surprising that he could do it again.”

“So the Ministry decided that the best way to deal with him was to bring in soul eating demons that everyone knows he can already get past?  Please tell me they at least plan on getting rid of the dementors, since they’ve already proved their worthlessness in this situation.”

“That’s not very likely, Harry.”  Ron adds. “Dad’s always talked about how Minister Fudge hates to be seen backing down, even when he’s wrong.”

I barely stop my jaw from dropping at that revelation.  Seriously?  _ That’s _ the person that was elected to be Minister of Magic!?  The kind of person who puts soul eating demons around a children’s school and refuses to move them away when said demons prove that they can’t fulfill their  _ one _ purpose!?

As the teachers direct us to sleeping bags in the Great Hall, there’s only one thought on my mind.

‘Tamelyn, when you get a body back and try and overthrow the Ministry, can I help you?’

_ I thought you’d never ask, Harry. _

 

* * *

 

The next day, we go to the library, and Tamelyn directs me to a side room which she informs me is where newspapers and magazines are stored.  Once we’re in the room, I stare at the rows upon rows of backissued Daily Prophets.

‘You know, I don’t think I ever considered how much several decades worth of a daily newspaper would accumulate.’

_ Yeah, this is a lot of stuff to look through.  Thankfully, I have a good idea where to start. We’re going to begin by looking at obituaries starting in the year 1945, and look for anyone with the last name “Calverton”. _

Tamelyn shifts into control of my body and, in a fit of bravery that even I wouldn’t attempt, begins using magic to levitate the newspapers from the rack.

‘You know that if Madam Pince catches us using magic in here, she’ll expel us from the library for at least a week?’

_ Not if I obliviate her. _

‘You can’t just wipe someone’s memory any time they catch you.’

_ True.  Anyone with a decent skill level in occlumency is resistant to obliviation, and an exceptionally skilled occlumens can throw off the charm altogether.  I should remember to fall back on my sweet talking skills now that we’re around magicals. _

‘And once again, you completely miss my point.’

Tamelyn doesn’t reply, instead choosing to put greater focus on scanning the stream of newspapers.  Several hours pass in silence before I check in again.

‘Are you holding up okay?’

_ Of course.  Why wouldn’t I be? _

‘Because you’ve been in control for several hours and using magic the whole time?  When we left my relatives, you basically passed out after being in control for twenty minutes and casting far fewer spells.’

_ Huh.  You’re right.  That is odd. It could be a time thing, since I’ve been in your body for longer?  Or it could just be because we’ve been switching control a lot more often and fight each other less when one of us takes over.  Either way, it’s… Oh. _

‘What, did you realise something?’

_ No, it’s just… This obituary. _

I look down at the newspaper in question.  I scan through several names until I see the one that obviously caught her attention.

**Tamelyn Merope Riddle**

**December 31st 1926 - June 30th 1959**

**Slytherin Prefect, Head Girl**

**Found murdered in Knockturn Alley**

_ I knew I was going to try to separate myself from my old identity, but it’s still bizarre to read your own obituary. _

‘I can imagine it would be.  Any idea how core-you faked her own death?’

_ Not really, my memory of planning my own death was disjointed and lacking in context.  She couldn’t have done it through a transfiguration, as those don’t last… I’ll have to ask her the next time I see her. _

‘That is an occasion I am NOT looking forward to.’

Tamelyn continues to stare at her obituary for a bit before she resumes her search.  Eventually, she finds what we’ve been looking for.

_ Ah, here it is.  The Calvertons both died in late March, 1963. _

‘So what’s next?’

_ Ideally, we could check the real estate records, but such things are held at the ministry.  I doubt we’d be able to get clearance to view them. On the other hand, since we know that it became haunted sometime in between 1963 and the mid-1970s, we now have a much narrower timeframe to search. _

‘That’s true.  I think we should call it quits for now, though.  I’m already getting a headache from being here for so long.’

_ That’s probably because I’ve been in control for several hours.  Here, I’ll let you take over again. _

Tamelyn flicks my wand, directing all of the newspapers back onto the shelves before I feel her withdraw herself from control of my body.  As soon as I shift back into control, a piercing pain lances through my head, causing me to fall to my knees.

_ Ah, yeah, I probably should have warned you that would happen. _

‘I am never letting you take control for that long again.  At least, not if you plan on doing large amounts of magic.’

_ There’s just no satisfying you, is there? _

 

* * *

 

As November begins, the continually grey skies darken into a blanket of clouds of constant rain.  Tamelyn insists that it’s a side effect from the Dementors, though I think it’s just because we’re in the Scottish Highlands.  Either way, Oliver Wood steps up Quidditch training to even more extreme levels in response, to help us prepare for Quidditch in adverse conditions.  This does turn out to be a good thing, as when the day of the match arrives, the rain is harsher than ever.

_ I still can’t believe you’re doing this.  I also can’t believe that the teachers are allowing the match to continue!  I know that everyone is stupid, but I would have thought they had more common sense than this!  At least when I attended Hogwarts, Quidditch matches would be cancelled for inclement weather. _

‘Well, it’ll be an interesting match, that’s for sure.’

_ I thought you were only on the team because you liked flying!?  How are you supposed to have fun in this!? _

I ignore her as we walk out onto the pitch.  On the way there, Wood moves up next to me.

“Alright, Harry, we’re counting on you here.”  He says. “Catch that Snitch or die trying, alright?”

_ Don’t you dare kill yourself over a stupid game, do you hear me!? _

‘Loud and clear.  Mostly loud, though.’

_ Sarcastic git. _

It’s only when I’m in the air that I realise just how bad the rain is.  Spotting the snitch is hard under normal circumstances, and it’s even worse when I can’t see more than twenty feet in front of me.  After an hour of flying and several times where I nearly slip off my broom (each of which causes Tamelyn to panic, much to her denial), I spot the Snitch nearby.  I start chasing after it, and Malfoy is on my tail far faster than I would have liked. The Snitch pulls upwards and I follow, nearing the top of the highest stands as it finally comes within my grasp.  Before, I can grab at it, though, a chill moves through me and something dark moves past me in the edge of my vision.

_ Oh no.  Not now.  Please not now. _

‘What?’

_ Dementors… _

As soon as she says that, another dark blur rushes past me, followed by another, then another…  I try and shake off the lightheadedness that their presence gives me

‘How many are up here?’

Another Dementor comes close to me and starts to draw its hood.  I feel myself start to lose consciousness once again as my vision closes in.  Much like last time, I hear a feminine voice scream out my name. I feel Tamelyn lose her grip on her occlumency barriers at the same time I lose my grip on my broom.  As I fall through the air I try and reach out for her presence in my mind. Without her occlumency barriers to separate us, rather than get her attention, I find myself sucked in…

 

* * *

 

_ I run through the streets, hoping desperately that nothing lands near me. _

_ I knew that all of the other children in the orphanage hated me, but I didn’t think they hated me enough to lock me in my room when an air raid occurred!  I should have known better. By the time I got out of my room, the shelter was sealed up, and no one opened it no matter how much I screamed. Either they couldn’t hear me, or they were actively ignoring me.  It was probably the latter. Most of them would be glad to see me die. _

_ I try and run for a nearby river.  My memory has improved since I started learning occlumency, and I recall an exit from the sewers being nearby.  It will be nasty, but at least I’ll have a better chance of survival than I would in a building. The roar of an airplane overhead makes me duck down and cover my head.  A series of explosions rock the ground as the bombs detonate, spraying brick, dirt, dust, and stone everywhere. Once the ringing in my ears subsides, I look up. The building just down the street from me is now a pile of rubble that spreads into the street. _

_ If that’s what it does to a building, then I don’t want to know what it does to a person. _

_ I try and suppress my overpowering desire to vomit.  I wasn’t able to eat much today, and I know I’ll need the energy. _

_ I still feel unsteady, but I push myself to my feet anyways.  Staying here would be foolish. I need to reach cover, and I need to do so soon. _

_ My vision swims as I start to make my way down the street.  I feel too unbalanced to run, but fear for my life should I stay still for too long. _

_ Oh gods, I could really die here. _

_ I pull out my wand, taking a second to gaze at the length of pale yew wood. _

_ This is the only thing that has a chance of protecting me, and I’m not even allowed to use it.  My hatred for the ministry and its bureaucratic laws reaches a high point at that moment. _

_ I used to be able to make my magic do whatever I wanted it to, but that ability has been gradually diminishing as I've learned wanded magic.  It begins to sink in that I'm almost totally helpless. That realisation sends a streak of rage and indignation through me. I spent years instilling terror in my fellows at the orphanage so that I would never feel the helplessness of letting other people have power over me. _

_ This is all Dumbledore’s fault!  I never should have listened to him and his stupid demands! _

_ Another series of explosions sends a shiver down my spine, though thankfully, these are more distant than the last ones.  I finally arrive at the river, and slide down the coarse gravel of the riverbank. I glance around, before heading to the right, to where the sewer entrance should be. _

_ I step over several unconscious vagrants before I continue jogging along the riverbank.  I should be close, at this point, assuming the sewers still drain here. That thought is interrupted as another plane comes down right ahead of me.  I whirl around and duck down, praying for safety from a God that I know doesn't exist. _

_ The first bomb lands far too close to me.  It doesn't hit me, but it does hit the crowd of vagrants.  I'm close enough to the explosion that I'm still sent flying backwards.  I scrape myself on the gravel when I land, but I'm alive. More than can be said for those homeless drunks… _

_ I pull myself off of the ground, trying to focus my vision and end the ringing in my ears.  It takes longer than I would have liked and leaves me feeling uncomfortably exposed. I continue going to the sewer entrance when I step on something unpleasantly soft.  I stare down and see that I'm standing on a blown-off human hand. _

_ Oh gods. _

_ I feel even more exposed now than I did before.  Even if I  _ **_was_ ** _ allowed to use magic, I don't think I could make a shield charm strong enough to deflect something that could blow a person to pieces like that. _

_ I shake my head.  I can think morbid thoughts when I'm safe.  I walk up to the sewer entrance… only to find it's been covered in a grate. _

_ Dammit! _

_ I seriously consider using my wand, but Dumbledore's had it out for me since he first gave me my letter, and there's no way he wouldn't use a breach of underage magic restriction to push for my expulsion.  I consider my other options. I doubt I could do magic without my wand, unless… _

_ I read up on basic magical theory at one point.  The idea behind accidental magic was that it was a manifestation of powerful emotions combined with a lack of magical control from young mages.  It was chaotic in nature, not manifesting in the structured form of a spell. Usually. _

_ I had a strong grip on my emotions as a child, and that lent itself to above average control of my magic.  On a few occasions, though, I was able to "teleport" in a manner very similar to what I later learned was called apparition by the magical populace.  I pocket my wand, just to be sure that this doesn't qualify as wanded magic, and focus on my  _ **_need_ ** _ to be on the other side.  An awful squeezing sensation suffocates my body for an instant before dumping me on the ground.  I look up to see that I succeeded. I'm past the grate. As I walk down the sewer a few metres, the totality of what I just saw comes crashing down on me. _

_ I just saw someone die like it was no big deal.  His life was snuffed out in an instant. And it was nearly me instead. _

_ Sure, I've tormented and tortured people before, but killing them?  The concept of death is so utterly terrifying to me that I don't dare inflict it on anyone.  I don't want to think about the fact that someday, I simply won't exist. _

_ But I just watched someone die.  They were blown to pieces. Magic can heal far better than muggles can, but I doubt that even magic could heal something like that. _

_ The nausea returns, and this time it brings tears with it. _

_ "I don't want to die…"  I say, speaking for the first time since escaping the orphanage.  The words come out soft, a harsh contrast to the deafening explosions _

_ It's true, though.  The one thing I'm afraid of is the one thing that can't be beaten. _

_ At least, in theory.  Magic can do so many things.  Surely there's a way to protect oneself from death, right? _

_ As I fight off waves of nausea in a city filled with death and dust and destruction, I make a vow to myself.  I swear that I will find a way to beat death through any means necessary, because I refuse to let myself feel this weak ever again. _

 

* * *

 

I wake up in the expanse of my mind, gasping for breaths that I know I don’t need.

My name is Harry Potter.  I’m Harry Potter. I am  _ not _ Tamelyn Riddle, no matter how difficult it is to remember that at the moment.  That memory did  _ not _ happen to me; it is  _ not _ mine, even if I just re-lived it.

Knowing that the memory isn’t mine doesn't help me shake off the visceral fear of death that it instilled in me.

A deliberate cough alerts me to the fact that Tamelyn’s already here.  Her face is blank and she’s staring down at me. I stand up to try and face her on equal footing, but she’s still more than a head taller than I am.

She stares at me for a while more before she speaks up.

“So.”  She says curtly, as though she is trying very hard to hold in her anger.  “What did you see?”

“Um… I don’t…”  I don’t even know how to explain what I saw.  Despite living through the memory like it was my own, I have only the vaguest sense of context for it.

“I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when, just as the dementors were about to make me live through my worst memories, an outside presence barges into my mind and forces me out.  I value my privacy, Harry, so I need to know: what. did. you. see?”

I gulp.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this mad except for the time I had a nightmare about uncle Vernon.  “In the memory, I…” No, it wasn’t  _ me _ .  “ _ You _ were locked in your room during an air raid.  There were bombs, and you…"

She stares at me for a moment.  "I saw several people blown to pieces.  That was the first time I saw someone die."

Tamelyn takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and starts clenching and unclenching her hands.

I raise an eyebrow at that.  "What… what are you doing?"

She takes another deep breath, but doesn't open her eyes.  "I am trying very hard not to violate the uneasy trust between us by blocking out your memory of viewing  _ my _ memory.  As I said: I value my privacy."

I hold in a scoff.  "That's kind of rich coming from you, isn't it?  Haven't you been looking through my memories this whole time?  You talk about trust, but how am I supposed to trust you if so don't even know you?  You're basically a nonentity before you became Voldemort. Would you like me to start judging you based on the actions of your older self?"

She slumps against a nonexistent wall and sighs.  "I've spent most of my life being judged for things I didn't do…"

I see an opening and grab it.  "We're on the same side, if only for now, and whatever has happened to you in the past is  _ obviously _ bothering you.  You have an oath from me not to share your secrets.  Shouldn't you take advantage of the opportunity to talk with the one person who can't tell anyone else about you?"

She stares at me again, though this time it's less judgemental and more… calculating.  I only realise she's rummaging through my thoughts when I feel her withdraw from my head.

"Hey!"  I hiss.

She ignores my outrage and continues to stare at me.  "You didn't see my memory. You  _ re-lived _ it."

"Yeah.  Is that not normal?"

She lets out a wry laugh.  "I should have realised that your inability to make barriers between us would have weird consequences.  No, you  _ should _ have been an intangible observer to the event in question."

"Oh…"

"Yes, 'Oh'."

"So…" I feel like I need more information on what I just experienced.  "What was that? When was it?"

"That was the Blitz.  It started in the summer between my second and third years, and went on for almost twelve months.  Muggle London was never safe during World War II, but that was the worst that it ever got." She lets out another long sigh.  "I always begged Dumbledore not to make me go back there. Everyone there hated me. Some of my caretakers thought I was possessed by a demon and tried to have exorcisms performed on me.  I always blamed Dumbledore's negligence for the danger I faced that summer, for more than one reason. When he still insisted on sending me back to a city that was actively being bombed, I began to suspect he actually wanted to get me killed."

Oh, that's… wow.  I don't even know what to say.  I settle on the only thing I can think of.

"I'm sorry."

Tamelyn looks at me with an expression of pure confusion on her face.

"Why?"  She asks, as though she's never experienced sympathy in her life… which may be tragically true, come to think of it.

"Because…" I don't think I can say this without it sounding stupid.  "Because you didn't deserve that. You may have done terrible things later, but you shouldn't have had to watch someone die when you were only my age.  You shouldn't have had to fear for your life like that."

She goes back to staring at the endless nothingness in front of her.  "I tried to avoid thinking about what my life 'should' have been like.  It got depressing surprisingly fast."

I sigh and slump against a nonexistent wall opposite her.  "Yeah, I know what that's like."

She chuckles.  "Yeah, I imagine you would…  Thanks, by the way. It's nice to not be pitied for the stuff I've been through."

I scowl.  "I hate being pitied."

Tamelyn laughs.  Not the haughty laugh she did back in the chamber, not the maniacal laughter she does when she's winning, and not the chuckle she does when she's mildly amused.  She lets out a natural, earnest laugh.

"We really are similar," she says, "you  _ do _ hate being pitied.  I suppose I should have known that it wouldn't be like you to pity others."

A long silence stretches out between us before Tamelyn speaks up again.

"You know, when you entered my mind, you pushed me out of my memory.  I saw something else instead."

"Oh?  And what was that?"

She grins at me.  "I saw the night my core self tried to kill you."

I… don't even know how to begin to feel about that.

"I found it very enlightening, actually.  Would you like to see?"

Morbid curious quickly wins out against sensibility.  "Sure."

"Good.  I'll pull up the memory now.  Just remember. You are Harry Potter.  No one else."

I raise an eyebrow.  "Why do I need to keep that in mind?"

She just looks down at me and grins.  "You'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** Ah, I finally got to write this chapter. Harry and Tamelyn interacting in the blank mindscape is a lot of fun to write, since they can use body language to communicate.
> 
> The Shrieking Shack investigation subplot kind of came out of nowhere once I realised that, what with it being a recent thing, Tamelyn would immediately find the existence of a recent yet somehow highly haunted building to be very suspicious.
> 
> Harry experiencing Tamelyn's worst memory in the first person was one of the earliest scenes I had planned in this story. I don't think I totally did my original idea justice, but I am pleased with how it turned out.
> 
> I changed a few details for the sake of the story. In reality, the blitz started after Hogwarts would have reconvened in 1940 and ended before it let out in 1941, so there was never a real-life time-frame when Tamelyn would have been in London during the Blitz. Good thing this is fiction, huh?
> 
> The other thing I changed was Voldemort's timeline. In canon, Riddle's last appearance was 1971 when he tried to get the Defence against the Dark Arts position. For the sake of my story, she faked her death over a decade earlier with the intent of disappearing and re-emerging later under a new identity.
> 
> Thanks to Foadar and Xgenje for helping with editing
> 
>  **E/N (Xgenje):** To the people who did the math to figure out the explosions from the dementor would have lined up with the blitz; pat yourself on the back.
> 
> To be honest when Ten told me about the idea they had about this story and plot I thought “Harry/Fem!Voldemort WTF. How does that even?” but this story is actually coming together really nicely. It’s even more impressive considering that she is writing both this and HP&SS simultaneously.


	11. Breakdown

I’m not sure what I expect to learn from seeing Voldemort kill my parents.  I know nothing about what they were like beyond a few stories told to me by Hagrid.  I didn't even know what they looked like before Hagrid put together a photo album for me.  I don’t know much about what they were really like, or even where they lived.

Part of me suspects that there would be more pleasant ways to see my parents in life than this.  The other parts of me just want to know what happened.

Tamelyn pulls me into the memory.  Unlike the last time, where I was sucked in, this feels like gently falling from one area to another.  I focus on Tamelyn's advice about remembering myself, not wanting to relive another memory. I give an involuntary shudder at the thought of the bombing.  I don’t think I’m going to be coping with  _ that _ memory any time soon.

The gentle falling sensation stops, and I open my eyes to see several small cottages resting on a road that ends in a cul-de-sac.

“Took you long enough.”  Tamelyn’s distinctive voice calls out from behind me.  I turn around to see her leaning back against the fence of the yard we landed in.  Her face and body language are back to her usual closed-off apathy.

“Where are we?”  I ask.

“I have no idea.”  She replies. “I never had much of an opportunity to explore the greater wizarding world, let alone residential areas like this one.”  She looks around at the scenery. “It looks to be a mixed area, though. See? There are some muggle telephone lines over there.” She gestures to some telephone poles mixed in among the trees lining the street.  “That at least rules out purely magical settlements…” She loses herself in thought for a moment before shaking her head. “But I digress, that’s not what we’re here for. What we are here for is… her.” She points to a figure covered in a dark cloak, waving her wand at the edge of the yard.

Oh.  “Is that… her, then?  Is that Voldemort?”

Tamelyn nods her head in reply.  “She is indeed.”

“Oh.”  I watch the cloaked figure continue to wave her wand.  “What is she doing?”

“Dismantling the wards, I imagine.  Whatever protections are on this house are clearly plentiful.”  Her gaze wanders off to the street, where several children are moving about in Halloween costumes.  Tamelyn’s face contorts into a sneer at the sight of them.

“Oh my God, Tamelyn, they’re just kids!  Are they really worth hating?” I say, exasperation overcoming me.

“Bah.  It’s the bloody costumes I’m mad about.  Vampires and skeletons and witches. Muggles are all too willing to indulge in the idea of magic up until they’re forced to confront that it’s actually real.  After that, all the wonder is gone and it’s quickly replaced with fear and exorcisms.”

I can’t come up with a reply, so I remain silent.  After another few minutes of wand-waving, a brief shudder fills the air as a shimmering dome fades into view over the house before dissipating into shreds.  Another shimmer fills the air as several new fields appear from Voldemort’s wand.

“Alright, she just shredded the wards on your family cottage and placed some temporary ones of her own.  Come on, then, let’s watch.”

Voldemort moves into the yard in a manner more reminiscent of gliding than walking.  Halfway down the walk, she raises her wand, and a dull orange bolt shoots from the tip, blasting the door to smithereens.  I instinctively pull my arms up to protect myself against shrapnel, though when a few seconds pass without feeling anything hit me, I remember that this is a memory.

“That was a silent, gestureless blasting curse.”  Tamelyn comments. “Frankly, it was an unnecessarily flashy move.  There’s no need to use tier III½ casting to destroy an obstacle.”

“I’m sorry, what?”  I ask. What the hell does she mean by tier III½?

Tamelyn tuts in irritation.  “Right, I forgot that spell tiers aren’t covered until N.E.W.T. level Defence class.  I’ll give you a rundown later, probably after you wake up. Now come on, I’m probably already dueling your father.”

I feel briefly confused at her talking about herself before remembering that, in a sense, she  _ is _ Voldemort.  I’ve been aware of that fact that they are technically the same person, but it’s still difficult to equate the adolescent girl with the monster I can see trading spells with my father.  I step into the house itself just in time to see my father stumble. Voldemort doesn’t waste the opportunity and quickly lashes out.

“ _ Avada Kedavra. _ ”  She intones, causing a sickly green light to strike my father.

The vibrant green nearly gives me flashbacks to the nightmares I had as a child.  I wonder if they were the result of some faint recollection of this night being pulled to the forefront of my mind as I slept.

“What… what was…?”  I try to ask, but Tamelyn predicts my question before I can finish asking it.

“That was the killing curse.  An unblockable curse than rips the target’s soul from their body.  It can only be stopped by solid objects, making it very effective in combat, though the fact that it’s an esoteric spell combined with its high magic cost helps to offset that.”

“How disturbingly clinical of you.”  I say as we follow Voldemort up the staircase.  I can’t bring myself to keep the bitterness out of my voice.  Not right now.

I’m not looking at Tamelyn’s face, but I can hear the sneer in her reply.  “Oh, I’m sorry, would you care for something more graphic? Like how it’s an absolutely disgusting curse to use?  That it feels like having a rotting corpse pass through your magic when you cast it? That if it wasn’t for the extreme dark magic euphoria that comes from casting the spell, I doubt anyone would use it at all?  That in order to cast it you need to want someone dead and  _ really _ mean it?”  We arrive at the top of the stairs and Voldemort starts gliding down the hallway.  When Tamelyn next speaks up, her voice is calm and level again. “I’m clinical because it lets me maintain control.  I can’t afford to let my emotions get the better of me. I was  _ never _ afforded that luxury."  Voldemort raises her wand and blasts apart one of the doors in the upstairs hallway.  "I suppose I should have realised this would be distressing for you to see." Tamelyn comments.  "This memory is far more personal to you than it is to me."

Well, she's definitely not wrong about that.  I don't say anything in response, though. I doubt my voice would come out with a level tone even if I tried.

I turn away from the unfolding scene as my mother starts begging for my life.  It's too much to watch, and I don't think I could hold the small remainder of my composure if I was to watch it.

"This is the part I don't understand…"  Tamelyn adds. "My core self is willing to spare her.  Why? Why does she only want to kill  _ you _ ?  A mere infant?  And why would she willingly spare said infant's mother?  Surely she knows better than to leave people alive when they'll hold grudges…"

"I'd still rather my mother be alive."  I choke out.

Tamelyn glances down at me, obviously picking up on the distress in my tone.  "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think your mother planned on living through this…"  She says, her voice softer. I look up just in time to see the flash of green light. Voldemort glides over to the crib where my infant self is lying.  Her back is turned, preventing her from seeing the golden glow that surrounds my mum's body and faintly trickles towards my infant self.

"Sacrificial magic of some sort."  Tamelyn explains. "I'm not familiar with the specific ritual, though.  The only rituals I had a chance to study were soul magic rituals, which are almost exclusively based on runic arrays.  This is a more primal form of magic, invoked through pure intent and symbolism, an area which I never had much time to study."

I expect Voldemort to lash out at my infant self the same way she did with my parents, but instead, she begins meditating.

"This is the part that I found most interesting.  In a way, it's where our current predicament began."  Tamelyn says.

"What… what is she doing?"  I ask.

"She's performing the first step in making a horcrux.  There are four necessary components to the horcrux ritual.  First is the meditation process. It requires you to draw all of your memories out of the half of your soul that will be split off."  She grimaces. "Technically, this step can be done after then next two, but it's a lot less pleasant that way."

"Does it have to be half of the soul?"  I ask.

A smirk ghosts across Tamelyn's lips.  "A quirk of the soul results in it  _ always _ splitting in half when it breaks.  I tried to find out why, but I was never able to get a real answer.  We're getting off topic, though. The next part of the ritual requires intent to kill.  You have to  _ mean _ it.  As a result, the killing curse is the best way to do this part and the next part, since it requires very similar intent."  Voldemort finishes her meditation and draws her wand as Tamelyn continues talking. "The third step is simple: kill someone.  Someone has to die for the soul to be split."

At that moment, Voldemort points her wand at my infant form as casts the curse again.

" _ Avada Kedavra _ ."

The flash of green light speeds towards my younger self, lancing him in the forehead before being reflected back and blasting apart Voldemort's body.  A dark, smoky form remains behind where the body once stood before it speeds off into the night. Half of the smoke lingers, though, before gradually seeping into the fresh scar on my younger self's forehead.  Shortly thereafter, the scene fades away into familiar blackness.

"A funny quirk about the horcrux ritual is that the intent to kill and the person killed don't have to be the same."  Tamelyn says, drawing my gaze to her. "When I created my first horcrux, that is to say, me, Myrtle was  _ not _ my intended target.  I was hoping to kill that arrogant ponce, Abraxas Malfoy.  Alas, Myrtle caught Tessie's gaze first, and I didn't want to risk killing two students, so I used her death instead."  A frown crosses her face. "It was rather foolish to use the death of an unintended target, at least in retrospect, but again, I'm getting off topic.  When you became a horcrux, all of the components were there. Memories were drawn out of half of my soul, I intended to kill you, and someone died by my hand, in this case, myself.  The fourth step was inadvertently accomplished when my body was destroyed: the split off soul fragment was unbound and directed into a magically saturated object." She shrugs. "Few things are more magically saturated than a fresh curse scar, and since the scar was seeping with my magic, that counted as directing it.  Technically, the soul fragment should have been bound afterwards, but that's not actually a required step. Besides which, I bound the soul fragment when I entered your head, so it's a moot point anyways."

I feel too overwhelmed by everything that I've just seen.  I need time to stop and sort through the absolute mess that is my emotional state.

"Can you just leave me alone for a bit?"  I ask. "I need time to process this."

Tamelyn looks at me for a bit.  “Sure, I suppose I can. This experience could have been worse, though.  You could have lived through that memory the same way you did my memory of the blitz.”

“I think I would have preferred that, honestly.  I doubt seeing it from a child’s perspective would have been as traumatic.”

Tamelyn shakes her head.  “Oh, oh no, that wasn’t your memory.  If it was your memory, then we would have started out in the nursery rather than in the yard.  No, it seems my core self botched part of the meditation. That was  _ her _ memory of that night.  Seems there was a little information left in your scar after all.”

And with that final comment, she fades from view as I feel her close herself off from me.  Once I'm sure that she's gone, I collapse to my knees. I need time to feel and time to think, but I don't even know if I can handle that at this point.  Even hearing her talk about Voldemort as being herself, I still can't mentally equate them. I can't equate the monster who cut down a family like it was nothing with the girl my own age who fled through a burning city while fearing for her life.

I feel like I could think this over for days, but consciousness claims me far sooner than I would have liked.

 

* * *

 

When I first smell the telltale odours of the hospital wing, I groan in frustration.  I am  _ not _ emotionally ready to deal with things right now.  Unfortunately, the voices surrounding me didn’t get that memo.

“Harry, are you alright!?”

“Stop crowding him!”

“I can’t believe he fell out of the sky like that…”

I groan again.  "Would you all shut up!?"

A blurry form that I can readily recognise as Hermione hands me my glasses, letting me see the crowd around my bed.  Ron, Hermione, and the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team are huddled around my bed, though Madame Pomfrey quickly bustles through and begins running her usual diagnostic routine.  I roll my eyes, but don't protest. I just need to sleep — for a few weeks, ideally. Unfortunately, I doubt that will be possible. Snape would have my head, and there's no way McGonagall would accept "existential despair" as a valid excuse to miss class.  As Pomfrey finishes her routine, she hands me a bar of chocolate and a pepper-up potion, telling me to consume both of them before doing anything else. I down the pepper-up and then quickly bite into the chocolate to drown out the burning aftertaste. As I chew on the chocolate, my eyes flit about the anxiously awaiting crowd.  As I take in the presence of the Gryffindor Quidditch team clad in their full gear, I remember that I was in the middle of a quidditch match when I passed out.

I suppose the traumatic memories  _ kind of _ pushed my thoughts about the match to the wayside.

Once I finish chewing on the chocolate, I down the glass of water next to my bed and ask the obvious question.

“What happened?”

Ron and Hermione exchange a look before Ron speaks up.  “The dementors swarmed the pitch. They just appeared out of the rain like a swarm of nightmares…”

“I’ve never seen Dumbledore so furious.”  Hermione chimes in. “He looked angry enough to split the earth open…”

Ron nods.  “A lot of people fainted this time, but you were the only one on a broom who passed out.”

Well  _ that’s _ just great.  “What happened to the match?”  I ask. Gotta keep up the pretence of normalcy.

Everyone seems to avert their eyes at my question.  Whatever happened, it clearly wasn’t good.

“Out with it.”  I say. “There’s no need to spare my feelings.”  Because nothing they say would be worse then what I just experienced.

Oliver Wood speaks up.  “Malfoy overtook you the moment you started to pass out and grabbed the snitch out of the air.  He was really obnoxious about it, too. At least, he was once he stopped pissing his pants in fear of the dementors.”

That actually gets a laugh out of me.  “Malfoy never had the stomach to back up his boasts.  If he actually pissed his pants, then I'd say losing the match was worth it.  Well, besides us losing the match, did anything else of note happen?”

Everyone starts averting their eyes again, instantly annoying me.

“Well?”  I say. “I asked a simple question, and your act isn’t fooling anybody.”

Hermione takes a deep breath before she starts speaking.  “Well, the rainstorm was really intense, and the wind was quite strong.  While Dumbledore was able to cushion your fall when you lost consciousness, your broom was sort of… blown away.”

“Into the whomping willow.”  Ron adds.

“Ronald!”  Hermione hisses.

Oh.   _ Oh _ .  That… really sucks, actually.  That broom was the second present I ever got, and the first one that I ever felt that I had earned.  Sure, I got on the quidditch team by breaking the rules and having an enthusiastic head of house, but I still  _ earned _ it because of the actions I took.  It was fast, powerful, and exhilarating.

And now it’s a broken pile of splinters.

I am far more upset about this than I am losing the match, though I don’t find this as surprising as I initially thought I would.  After all, quidditch is just an excuse to fly. I like winning just for the exhilaration. But without a broom…

“Fuck.”

“Language!”  Hermione chides.

I did  _ not _ mean to say that out loud.  Not that I think that Hermione would particularly care if my swearing was intended to be internal rather than external.

I let my head fall back into the pillow.  “Can you guys leave me alone for awhile? I need time to process this.”  And isn't that the understatement of the year. The match is the last thing on my mind at the moment.  Not that I’m about to everyone else that. There is no way that I’m geing to let them know that I need to process what it’s like to live through a Nazi bombing.

After everyone files out of the room, I pull the pillow out from under my head and shove it into my face, with every intention of screaming into it.  Once I close my eyes, though, all I can see are the bombs and rubble. I try and push that thought out of my head only for it to be replaced by the cloaked figure that killed my parents and tried to kill me as well.

I pull the pillow off my face and groan loudly.  I think I’ll ask Madam Pomfrey for some dreamless sleep potion for tonight.  I wouldn’t want to see what my imagination comes up with otherwise.

I shift around in the hospital bed, turning my body to stare at the pile of splinters that Hermione left behind.

Magical objects are very hard to repair.  So hard to repair that it’s normally easier just to buy a new one.  I should just let it go, but dammit, that is  _ my _ broomstick!  The Nimbus 2001 is only going to be in my price range if I buy it used, which means it  _ won’t _ be as well cared for as my old 2000 was, and there aren’t likely to be many new 2000’s in stock most places.  The Firebolt is so outrageously expensive that it’s not even worth joking about. That thing costs more than a new car, unless one has a very expensive taste in cars.

I brood for a while until Madam Pomfrey comes back over and scans me again, thankfully clearing me to leave once she finishes.  I waste no time walking up to the seventh floor and making my way to the Room of Requirement.

‘I need a place to forget about my worries.’

The door fades into view, and I walk right in.  Immediately, my nose is filled with the sharp scent of wet pine and the sweet smell of decomposing leaves.  I look around to see that the room has generated as a misty mountain path in the middle of a forest.

I shrug and start following the trail.  Time to see if I enjoy hiking, I suppose.

 

* * *

 

I lay in my bed in the Gryffindor dorms later that afternoon.  While hiking was fun, I didn't have enough energy to do it for the rest of the day.

So instead, I just lay in my bed, too awake to go to sleep, yet too tired to do anything else.  With nothing else left to do, I pull out my trunk and start looking for something, anything to read.  As I sort through them, the journal of Salazar Slytherin that Tamelyn copied from the Chamber of Secrets catches my eye.  I ponder it for a moment before picking it up and opening it to a random page.

Said page is a list of casualties and abductions from Hogsmeade.

Unlike what Binns drones on about when it comes to the founders' era, there is no mention at all of witch burnings.  Which I suppose makes sense. From what I can recall of muggle history, those didn't really come until a few hundred years later.  Instead he talks about how young wizards and witches were abducted for use in armies. Slytherin then goes on to talk about how the Muggle royalty at the time preferred to kidnap children, as they were easier to mold into loyal servants and soldiers.

Reading through his exceedingly detailed accounts, I begin to understand why Hogwarts is a fortress.  It held hundreds of magical children, and to many rulers at the time, that was an incomparable prize.

Hogwarts was a fortress because it had to defend the prize it held within.

I continue skimming through the pages, reading various passages that catch my eye.  He was wary of muggleborns because he didn't want their connections to the muggle world to lead royal armies to the castle gates.

There is some genuine blood supremacy mixed in with his concerns, though it's much milder than I would have expected, especially given the current state of Slytherin house.

As I read through, though, a question comes to me.  Hogwarts is clearly unfindable by muggles now. Why did they not simply use that magic back then?

 

* * *

 

The next morning, I make a vow to dearly thank whoever invented dreamless sleep potion, assuming they’re still alive.   It was not hard to convince Pomfrey to part with the potion, so long as I agreed not to ask for any additional doses for the next month.

As I make my way back up to the common room an hour later, I realise that I still haven't heard from Tamelyn.  When I asked her for some time, I didn't expect more than a few hours. Then again, I haven't exactly been making good use of my time away from her…

My train of thought is interrupted when Lupin intercepts me in the hallways, putting a piece of parchment into his robes as he steps into view.

“Harry, I was wondering if you might be willing to spend a few hours catching up with me?  I meant to check in with you yesterday after the match, but I was… ill at the time.”

I'm about to decline when I think better of it.  I have a lot of stuff I need to get off my chest.  There are some things I know I can't talk about, but I'm sure I can talk about  _ some _ things, right?  So long as it's information I could reasonably have come across without Tamelyn's help, I should be in the clear…

Lupin guides me into his office and we each take a seat on opposite sides of his desk.

“Are you suffering any longer after-effects from the dementors?”  He asks. “I know you were far from the only person to pass out, but since you've already done so once before, I wanted to make sure…”

Before I'm even thinking about it, I blurt it out.

“I saw Voldemort kill my parents.”

Lupin simply stares at me, wide-eyed, at my admission.

“Yesterday, when I passed out, that was the memory I saw.”  It's technically true. I only saw the memory — I didn't relive it.  “I just… She was merciless and powerful beyond belief. My father only lasted as long as he did because she was toying with him, and mum… mum didn't even have her wand, so she just begged for my life…”

Lupin manages to regain enough of his composure to respond.  “I… I'm sorry that you had to relive that.”

“That part that I don't get is that Voldemort didn't want to kill her.  She said she was willing to spare my mum and only killed her because she refused to get out of the way.  Voldemort really wanted to kill me. Why? Why was  _ I _ the target, but my mum was safe?”

The tears start coming out for the first time since this ordeal started.  I just… I just can't hold it in anymore. Keeping Tamelyn a secret was one thing, but I can't deal with that on top of everything else.  I can't deal with jumping at every loud noise because I'm afraid it's a bomb that's about to blow me to pieces in a way that can't be healed.  I can't deal with knowing I'm sharing my head with someone who becomes feared the world over for commiting unspeakable acts. I can't deal with wondering if I'm the reason that my parents are dead, and if I am, then  _ why? _

I can't deal with the conflicting emotions between frustration at not having privacy even inside my own head, but at the same time, not wanting her to leave because unlike everyone else, she at least  _ understands _ .  And I can't deal with the ramifications that the only person who can really understand me is, to put it bluntly, evil.

I can't deal with it.

And I can't even talk about it.

…Except with her.

At some point during my breakdown, Lupin came over and embraced me.  I was so busy being lost in my own misery that I didn't even tense up at the contact the way I normally do.

“I’m sorry you had to see that Harry.”  Lupin says. “I don't know why Voldemort was after you.  Dumbledore simply told us that your family was in danger and encouraged them to go into hiding.”

I clench my fists at the mention of Dumbledore's role in this fiasco.  Of  _ course _ he was involved somehow.

Lupin doesn't notice my tension, though, so he continues talking.  “I know that I haven't been here throughout your life as I should have been, but I'm here now.  I was one of your father's best friends, and I owe it to you and to him to be here if you need me, alright?”

I nod weakly.  I don't have the energy for anything else at the moment.

I just sit there for a while with Lupin trying to comfort me, when I blurt out another question.

“Why is Voldemort… like she is?  Cruel and vindictive and ruthless.  Why is she like that? She was a person, once.  She was a normal person who attended school like me and had hopes and dreams and fears like everyone else.”  Hopes of relevance, fears of death, and dreams of power. I know that I'm rambling at this point, but I can't stop myself.  I need answers, and Tamelyn is too cagey to tell me anything about herself. I feel like I need to know that just because we are as similar as she constantly says doesn't mean that I'll end up like her.

Lupin just sighs.  “I’m not sure, Harry.  I didn’t know her.”

I  _ do _ know her, and I’m still not sure.

“But I think that the answer would change depending on who you asked.  I think that if you asked Dumbledore, he would talk about people’s ability to choose their lot in life, picking between doing the right thing and doing the easy thing.  Charlus, your grandfather, probably would have talked about strength of will and the ability to resist the corruption of power. On the other hand, I think that some people just have more darkness in them than others, and eventually they get tired of resisting its pull.”

Tamelyn and I are so similar in so many ways.  Hearing Lupin’s explanation makes me wonder if someday I’ll get tired of resisting every urge to hex everyone who looks at me funny.  If someday I’ll just kill everyone who gives me trouble that same way Tamelyn killed Marge.

I don’t like that.  I don’t like that at all.

 

* * *

 

I pace in front of the entrance to the Room of Requirement.

‘I need a place to let off steam.’

The door fades into view, and I wrench it open.  The room is filled with all sorts of targets, dummies, and obstacles, with a lone piece of parchment lying on the ground.  I read the parchment, which details how to cast a fourth year disintegration curse — the Reductor.

Cheeky little bugger of a room.

The curse is easy enough to learn, and I quickly get to work demolishing as much stuff as I can.  The room reassembles the dummies, but leaves the scenery in pieces as I smash my way through it. After a few casts, I try and start adjusting the power of the curse.  All of the occlumency training I’ve done has allowed me feel the magic flowing through me. I put a little less into one spell, a little more into another, anything to keep it from becoming predictable.  Predictability is a weakness.

It doesn’t take me long to realise that I have less magic to work with now than I normally do.

Which makes sense.  Normally, I can draw on Tamelyn’s core, but since she’s shut herself off from me… Well, I guess I can’t really draw power that I can’t access.

I groan and slump down to the floor in frustration, or at least I would have if the room didn’t create a chair underneath me the moment I sank down.  I am not doing myself any favours through this. I’m just… hiding my issues behind a mask of indifference. Just like she does. I wonder if Voldemort pushed herself so far down that path that eventually that mask was all that was left.

I have the room dispel all of the current objects and reconfigure itself to the room I used for mediation.  I pull myself into the same manifestation of my mind that I use when I’m unconscious. It’s easier to talk that way, to have actual bodies, even if they’re just representations.

Once inside, I walk up to the barrier between us and start banging on it.

“Tamelyn!  Open up! It has been almost twenty four-hours and We need to talk!”

The barrier doesn’t respond, so I ram into it with my shoulder a few times.  On the third try, though, the barrier opens up, and I find myself tumbling in once again.

 

* * *

 

_ “§Hello, Miss Snake!§”  I hiss at the green garden snake in the orphanage’s yard.  “§How are you doing today?§” _

_ Snakes aren’t very smart, but they’re much nicer than people.  People are mean. Especially when they see people that are different from them.  Then they turn extra mean. They try and hurt you with words and when the words don’t work they use their fists.  Snakes aren’t like that. Snakes are always happy to have someone to talk to, even if they don’t have much to say.  Unlike people, snakes listen. _

_ This snake isn’t very good at speaking, so she’s probably young.  Young snakes never speak very well. _

_ I hold out my arm and she curls around it and starts climbing my body.  Snakes like doing that. They say I feel warm, even when I feel cold. I’m just glad I can be nice back to the snakes.  Snakes are the only things that are nice to me, so I get to be nice back to the snakes. It’s fun. _

_ “Hey, freak!”  Someone shouts from behind me.  “Talking to snakes again?” _

_ I tense at the sound of Herbert’s voice.  Lots of people are mean, but Herbert is the meanest.  He takes everything he wants and hurts people if they don’t give it to him.  I hate Herbert. _

_ “The snakes are nicer that you are!”  I shout back, stomping my foot on the ground. _

_ “Snakes can’t talk, dummy.  They’re just stupid animals.”  Herbert sneers. “Just as stupid as the people who think they can talk.” _

_ “You’re the stupid one!”  I shout, pointing at him. “All you do it take things, and someday, you’re going to take something from the wrong person, and then you’ll be sorry!” _

_ Herbert’s face enters a frown, and he walks towards me, towering over me.  At times like this, I hate being small. It makes me feel weak. I hate feeling weak.   _

_ “Oh?  And who do you think that person will be, runt?”  Herbert asks. “You?” _

_ I try not to cower under his glare.  “Maybe…” _

_ “Wrong answer, runt.”  Herbert says as he punches me hard in the stomach.  I keel over and wheeze as I lose my breath. Once I’m on the ground, he starts kicking me.  “Think you’re something tough, runt? You can’t hurt me. You can’t do anything except talk in your stupid snakes in your stupid made-up language.  Maybe someday the matron will realise what a freak you are and kick you out of here.” _

_ “No, you…”  I try to say before he kicks me again. _

_ “What was that, runt?” _

_ I clench my fists, feeling the anger drown out my thoughts.  “I said you should  _ **_STOP!_ ** _ ” _

_ The moment I say the word “stop”, Herbert is thrown backwards across the yard, tumbling in the grass when he lands.  I stop, gaping at what I just saw. _

_ Did I do that? _

_ I walk up to Herbert, intent on seeing if I can do it again.  I focus on the feeling I had when I pushed him back, and try to make him float in the air in front of me.  I see Herbert’s body lift off the ground. By the time he realises what’s happening and starts flailing, he’s too late to do anything about it. _

_ “You like to hurt other people.”  I say. “Let’s see how you feel when you get  _ **_HURT_ ** _!” _

_ At the word “hurt”, Herbert starts screaming in agony. _

_ I watch him scream and flail, trying to make the pain stop, but he can’t do anything. _

_ I am not weak, and this is what proves it. _

_ “I think you need to hurt more, Herbert!”  I say, making his screams become louder. _

 

* * *

 

I find myself grabbed and pulled out of the memory, only to come face to face with Tamelyn's angry glare. She's holding me up by the back of my robes, putting her height to good use.

“Just because you saw one of my memories doesn’t give you an open invitation to see the rest."  She says with a frown upon her face.

"And I didn't mean for it to happen either time."  I retort as I squirm out of her grasp.

With my feet firmly planted on metaphysical ground, I stare back at her.

“We need to talk.”  I say firmly.

Tamelyn sighs.  “I suppose we do.”

Despite the admission that we need to talk, neither of us says anything for a while.  Just as I open my mouth to break the silence, Tamelyn speaks up first.

“I suppose I owe you an apology.”

Whatever words I was about to say die in my throat.

“We are… similar.”  She continues. “Eerily so.  I suppose that in the heat of the moment after finding out you relived one of my memories, I forgot that just because we are  _ similar _ doesn’t mean that we are  _ identical _ .”

She pauses for a moment before speaking again.

“I am… not fond of my parents.  I only got one good thing from each of them: the legacy of Salazar Slytherin from my mother and my good looks from my father.”

“How modest.”  I chide gently.

She smirks at me.  “Beauty is a power of its own, you know, and it’s one I’m proud to have.  Honestly, if you put more effort into your appearance, you could have it, too.”

I fight away the faint blush tingeing my cheeks.  “Uh, thanks.”  

Tamelyn doesn’t notice my embarrassment and turns away again, continuing her explanation.  “I have no fondness for my parents. My mother was a coward who lost the will to live just after she gave birth, and my father was a muggle who tried to kill me when he found out I was a witch.”

She pauses for a moment before continuing in a quieter tone.  “That was what made me really give up on muggles, honestly. If a father couldn’t love his daughter in spite of her magic, then was mugglekind really worth saving…?”  She shakes her head. “But I digress. Since I was neither close to nor fond of my parents, I would have felt very little from seeing their deaths. In truth, I killed my father myself, even if it was done in an act of self defence.  I suppose I should have realised that you would feel differently about your parents, since yours actually… cared about you.” She finishes, bitterness seeping into her voice at that final admission.

I take a moment to sit and think before I speak up.  “That’s… part of the issue. Your attitude towards the whole ordeal was also irksome.  Most people would find the ability to maintain a level head while watching the slaughter of an entire family to be… concerning.”

Tamelyn raises an eyebrow.  “I’m an occlumens, Harry, and a very,  _ very _ good one, at that.  Maintaining my composure in stressful situations is what I do.  Besides which, there  _ was _ vital information in that memory that would have been far too easily missed if I got caught up in the moment.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.  “And while I will acknowledge that you have a point, there, I will also point out that giving me clinical details about my parents deaths is  _ not something that should be done while I am witnessing the event for the first time! _   I would rather not have the oddities of Voldemort’s fighting style pointed out to me the first time I see my parents outside of a photograph.”

Tamelyn stares at me.  “Noted.”

“Again, though, that wasn’t the thing that bothered me the most.  It’s that… you talk about Voldemort as being you.”

Tamelyn blinks.  “She is me, though.  A different part of me, and a part that definitely confuses me, but a part of me nonetheless.”

I groan in frustration.  “Do you not see any issues with identifying with a ruthless killer!?”

Tamelyn slumps against a nonexistent wall, just like she did last time.  I take that as a sign that her facade is cracking for the first time since we viewed the memory of the night my parents died, so I wait and see how things play out.  “I’m already a killer, Harry. Myrtle Warren died to create me.” She pauses to let out a sigh. “I will say that infanticide seems like a bit of a stretch even by my admittedly dubious standards of morality, though… ”

“Why did your core self want to kill me?  Do you have any ideas?”

“No!  And that’s the part that’s annoying me most of all!  What in the world is so potentially dangerous about an infant that they need to be killed!?  The only halfway sensible idea that I can think of is that she was trying to send a message, but even that theory doesn’t hold up!  Why did she  _ only _ want to kill the infant, but let the mother live?  Why not just kill the whole family and leave them for the aurors to find!”

Time to bring up my longstanding suspicion.  “Has it occurred to you that your core self may not be… totally sane?”

She stares at me in disbelief.  “That just feels like a cheap explanation, like an easy way out.  Just because her actions don’t make sense doesn’t mean that she’s insane.  It just means that we’re missing information. Sure, there were some… less stable moments after my creation, but she’s had half a century to recover from that.”

I shake my head at her.  “And I think you’re in denial because you don’t want to admit that a part of you lost control.”

Tamelyn sneers at me.  “Shut up.”

I push her further.  “You’re obsessed with maintaining your image of strength and composure.  You went out of your way to get rid of every weakness you had. You split your soul to overcome death and you mastered occlumency to protect your thoughts and emotions.  You don’t want to admit that your core self could be insane because that would mean that you possessed a weakness that made it possible.”

“SHUT UP!”  Tamelyn snarls, throwing me backwards with a wave of mental force.  She storms over to me as I start to pull myself up and grabs me by the neck of my robes, yanking me upwards and holding me eye level with her.

“I am not weak.”  She says with barely restrained anger.

“No, you’re not.”  I acknowledge. “But you also aren’t perfect.”

Tamelyn drops me and flops backwards, splaying herself out on the nonexistent ground.

“Fuck.”  She swore.  “Fuck fuck fuck.  Is this what it’s like having someone be able to relate to you?  Because if it is, I can’t say I like it.”

I shrug.  “I can’t answer that question any better than you can.”

“Damn.”

Silence stretches out between us before I ask the obvious question.

“So… what now?”

“Now?”  She asks.  “Now… I don’t fucking know.  I still say we try and relay information back to my core self.  I’m sure you’d be glad to have her off of your back. Even if she has, through some means, lost her sanity, then she should still have enough self preservation not to kill me.  I have a great deal of nasty and unsavoury traits, but suicidal is  _ not _ one of them.”

“It’s not exactly suicide…”  I point out.

She shrugs.  “It’s close enough to being suicide.  We share a soul, so we are technically the same person, even if our memories diverge at age eighteen.  We each anchor the other to the mortal plane. There’s no reason for us to fight each other.”

I scoff.  “Right, because saying that won’t jinx the entire thing.”

Tamelyn’s face contorts in confusion.  “I’m talking about soul and ritual magic, not jinxes.  What in the blazes are  _ you _ talking about?”

I roll my eyes.  “Nevermind. It’s a muggle phrase.”

A frown crosses her face.  “Oh. Ew.”

Another pause fills our mind.

“So, what do we do in the meantime?”  I ask. “I doubt that contacting your core self is something we’ll be able to plan.  In all likelihood, we’ll have to wait for an opportunity to arise. What else needs to be done?”

“Hm… Well, for one, I still need to get a body of my own.  That means I have to  _ make _ a body, which means that I have to start getting much better at alchemy.  We should also start looking into why my core self wanted to kill you. That sort of agenda doesn’t come out of nowhere.”

“While you were blocking yourself off from me, I asked Professor Lupin about it.  He said that Dumbledore gave my parents intel that ‘their family’ was being targeted.  Unless we ask Dumbledore, I doubt we’ll be able to find much.”

Tamelyn scowls. “Great.  So our only guaranteed source of intel on this is Dumbledore.  There goes that plan. I suppose you should start working on learning how to defend yourself, then.  It would be a pity if you died.”

I pull myself out of my mind and back into my body.  I find myself sprawled out on the floor instead of sitting where I started.

‘I blame you for this.’

_ You can’t blame all of your problems on me, Harry. _

‘No, I can’t.  But that doesn’t change the fact that a lot of them are your fault.’

_ Well, that fact that you skipped lunch certainly isn’t my fault. _

‘I wouldn’t have had to skip lunch if you didn’t show me that awful memory then hide from me for twenty four hours!  What took you so long, anyways?’

_ I have no sense of time when I’m shut off from you.  I did try bothering you at one point, but your mind was empty. _

‘Oh.  I, uh, took a dreamless sleep potion last night.  That’s probably why.’

_ Yes, that would explain it.  Now let’s see what we can find out about what happened before your parents went into hiding.  Asking Dumbledore anything is absolutely off-limits. We don’t want him thinking you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. _

‘Our first source should be Lupin.  He may not know much, but perhaps he can direct us to people who do.’

_ Sounds good.  Time to subtly manipulate people into giving us information. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** This chapter just… did not want to be written. I thought I had a decent plan, and then next thing I know, Harry’s having a mental breakdown and my entire plan is derailed.
> 
> (Don’t look at me. I just write the thing.)
> 
> On the bright side, this chapter finally goes into the process of how to make a horcrux and introduces the concept of spellcasting tiers. I intended to actually explain them in this chapter as well, but, like I said, things got away from me. I also considered going back and adding a description in, but Harry and Tamelyn’s conversations are extremely flow-heavy. It’s borderline impossible to direct them in any way.
> 
> I introduced a lot of other ideas in this chapter that will be brought up later. I look forward to seeing if any of you start to piece things together.
> 
> Poor Lupin is trying to be a good adult role model in Harry’s life, but both of them are way out of their depth, here.
> 
>  **E/N (Xgenje):** So HOLY CARP THAT’S A THING. I was not expecting this chapter to be like this when I started reading it. I honestly don’t have much to say so……
> 
> Yeet?


	12. Learning

I try not to choke on the dust as another explosion rocks the ground.  As the heat from the explosion washes over me, I can feel myself starting to sweat.  At least the smell of dust and fire is disguising the stench of blood and death that was overpowering just a few seconds ago.  I stand up shakily, my movement hindered by the bruises inflicted on my legs when the last explosion blasted rubble into me. Just as I start to limp towards cover, another plane passes overhead.  I duck down, hearing the shrill cry of bombs drop. I wait for the inevitable impact that will end my life, but nothing comes. I look up and see Tamelyn sitting in a familiar black void, rather than the ruined city I was just standing in.  I try and process what just happened.

“What is…?”  I ask before the situation catches up with me.  “Oh. Nightmare.”

She nods in reply.  “Sorry for not being here earlier.  I try and give you space when I can, but when I realised that you’d probably be having nightmares about the bombing, I decided to intervene.”

I push myself up to a standing position.  “Well, um, thanks for that. How’d you guess I’d be having a nightmare?”

“Because I had them for months until I got good enough at occlumency to block them out.”  She says with her usual level of detachment.

I would criticise her for not dealing with her emotions if I didn’t block out my feelings just as much.  “How does that even work?” I inquire, changing the subject.    
“I mean, how does occlumency let you dispel nightmares?”

She shakes her head.  “Occlumency is an art of understanding your own mind.  Dreams are just another aspect of the mind. Lucid dreaming is possible even without occlumency, but said dreams will have greater clarity to an occlumens.  Surely you’ve noticed how we’re able to be fully aware of what happened before we fell asleep, how we can think without the usual haze of sleep and dreams clouding our judgement and reasoning, and how we can perfectly recall what we talked about when we wake?”

“I… guess I did notice that.”  Certainly not in as many words, though.

“By understanding our minds, we are able to use them more effectively.  We become aware of everything that goes on in the mind and are granted greater control over processes that we normally wouldn’t have any control over.”

“Huh.  I thought occlumency was made to help defend the mind, and the rest of the stuff was just useful things that came with it.”

Tamelyn smirks.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the other way around.  I could easily see some monk meditating for weeks to try and understand his mind and his magic, and the ability to detect and repel intrusions was just a happy accident that came along with the newfound understanding.”

“You’re not sure?”  I’m honestly surprised by that.  “You know so much about this field, but you’re not even sure how it originally came about?”

Tamelyn’s face grows wistful.  “Some information is too far gone to track down, wrapped in too many layers of myth and fiction for the real truth to be known.  I studied the Mind Arts extensively once I learned of their existence, but in the end, their mysterious origin is just proof that in the end, time conquers all.”  A cocky grin grows on her face. “Well, everything except me, that is. I will gladly be the exception to the onslaught of time.”

I shake my head at her ego.  “Right.”

“There are other forms of the mind arts besides occlumency.  Legilimency is the other big one, and it’s one that I’m very familiar with.  I’m actually a natural legilimens, and I spent plenty of time at the orphanage building up that skill even before I knew about magic.”

“Can you teach me?”  I ask. Being able to know what other people are thinking is far too useful a skill to pass up the opportunity to learn.

Tamelyn starts biting her cheek.  “I… might be able to. We’ll need to find someone to practice on, though.  Someone human, to start with. Being able to use legilimency on house elves is extremely useful for gathering all sorts of obscure info, though as magic creatures, their brains are far harder to understand when learning the skill.”

“Why can’t I practice on you?”  I ask.

She visibly hesitates.  “That’s… probably not a great idea.  For several reasons. For one, our minds are already pressed very close together, and that proximity between our minds could get you into some bad habits.  Forcing your magic to form the connection to another mind is the hardest part of legilimency, and you basically skip that step any time you enter my mind.”

“Right.  That makes sense.”

“Also, the proximity between our minds is already leaving the boundary between them extremely blurred.  Both times that you’ve been in my mind, you’ve been drawn into my memories to the point of reliving them.  I’m concerned about letting you use actual legilimency on me, which could force that boundary to blur further.  As it is, I’ve been doing my best to undo any effects of our personalities bleeding into each other.”

I’m sorry, what?  “Back up. Our personalities have been  _ bleeding into each other!? _ ”

She nods.  “Not substantially, mind you, but yes.  As I said, I’ve been doing my best to reverse any effects of that bleed.  I started noticing it back when your first attempt at making barriers failed to draw any lines between us.  While I do enjoy your company, I’m sure that neither of us wants to risk losing our identity lest we bleed too heavily into each other.”

I groan loudly.  “Great. Now I can’t even trust that my personality is my own!?”

She laughs.  “You forget that I am a master at the mind arts — fixing something like this is easy.  Besides which, it sounds worse than it is. So long as I don’t drop my barriers completely, we’ll only have to deal with minor effects, like our temperaments influencing each other.”

“Even so, that sounds like a hazard.”

“Again, it’s not as bad as it sounds, but not having to deal with it at all is one reason that I would like to get into a body of my own as soon as possible.  Unfortunately, that will take time. To start with, I need to  _ make _ myself a body of my own.  Not to mention that the fact that our souls are sort of… merged… adds in additional complications to the process.  I only know of one way that will work for us outside of necromantic rituals, and it’s very challenging. I have to use alchemy to form a complete reconstruction of my body using a sample from my old one.”

“Hold on.”  I say. “How are you going to manage that?  Your body was disintegrated when your core self’s killing curse backfired.  We  _ saw _ that happen in her memory.”

She just smiles back at me.  “Oh, I already have that taken care of.  No, there’s no need to worry about the sample.  But creating a body through such means is an incredibly advanced form of alchemy, just below creating a philosopher’s stone in terms of difficulty.  There are a lot of components to bodies, after all, so it’s easy to make mistakes. Then we have to actually get my soul out of your body, which…” She glances down at me.  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Oh no.  You are not allowed to say something that ominous with no explanation.  So, does this process kill me to get you out or something?”

Tamelyn scowls back at me.  “Of course not. Did you forget that I swore a binding oath to you that I would not bring any mortal harm to you?  You won’t be harmed by the process of separating ourselves, but you will find it unpleasant.”

I tilt my head at her.  “If you’re giving me instructions that lead me to my death, does that count?”

She smiles and shakes her head.  “Feel free to research magical oaths if you want.  They’re primarily intent based, so even acting indirectly with the intent or knowledge that something would permanently harm you would count as a violation of the oath’s terms.  The only way I can get out of this oath is if you knowingly and willfully release me from it.”

“If these things are so powerful, how come I’d never heard of them before you made me swear one?”   Seriously, if oaths were so binding, you’d think I would have at least heard them mentioned in the two years I was at Hogwarts.

“They have their limits.  They have to be made by one person, to another person, relating to that person, and accepted by that person.  In addition to that, only the oathmaker and oathbinder are able to verify that an oath was actually made. There was a brief time period where the court system tried to use oaths to verify testimony by having witnesses swear an oath to an objective judge.  Five defendants in a row were able to implicate innocents by bribing the judge to not accept the oath while pretending that it took. Eventually, someone was too sloppy and got caught. It didn’t take long after that for use of oaths in court to be dismantled.”

“Isn’t there a flash of light when an oath is made, though?”  I ask. “Isn’t that a sign of a successful oath being formed?”

Tamelyn sighs.  “Harry, there are hundreds of different spells to make light.  Hell, if you cast it wandlessly, even a  _ Priori Incantatem _ wouldn’t be able to expose you.”

Well, I suppose that it’s good to know that the wizarding court system is messed up.  It makes sense, since it’s possible to edit people’s memories with magic. I make a note to absolutely avoid getting myself in any legal trouble.

“So, it’s possible to cast magic wandlessly?”  I ask, going back to the previous topic. “Why isn’t that covered in any of our classes?”  I try and sit down in the blank environment the way that Tamelyn always leans against a fake wall.  I apparently did something wrong, since I end up sprawled on my back.

Tamelyn giggles.  “I’m the one controlling the thoughtspace right now.  You’re nowhere near advanced enough with occlumency to create physical manifestations.”  She waves her hand and I feel myself rise up as a stool or some similar surface lifts me off the ground into a sitting position.  “As for your question, I never got around to explaining spellcasting tiers to you. You feeling up for another lecture?”

I shrug.  It’s not like I have anything else to do while I wait for myself to wake up.

“I’ll take your lack of commitment as a yes, then.”  She says. “So, to start with, have you noticed how, as you become more experienced with a spell, the wand movement doesn’t need to be as precise to get the same effect out of the spell?”

I’m about to answer in the negative, when I realise that I actually  _ haven’t _ needed to be as precise with spells that I’ve been using for ages.

“Not until you mentioned it.”  I say.

“Right, that’s part of building yourself up to a ‘Tier II’ cast.  ‘Tier I’ is the way we’re taught how to cast spells: precise wand movements and incantations.  Tier II, gestureless casting, is when you are familiar enough with a spell that you can skip the wand movement altogether, making it a simple point and shoot.”

“Oh.  That sounds convenient.”

She smirks.  “It is, but it also uses more magic to cast a spell that way, so while it’s useful in a short fight, it’s far less worthwhile in a long one where exhaustion can become a factor.  After that is Tier III, silent casting, which allows you to cast without speaking the incantation. That’s taught in N.E.W.T. level defence and charms, around the same time that they teach you about spell tiers in the first place.  Like with gestureless casting, it’s less efficient, but it has a lot more advantages. For example, being able to cast without alerting your opponent to what spell you’re using, when you need to dispel something that’s preventing you from speaking.  After that is what’s called ‘Tier III½’, which is when a spell is cast silently and gesturelessly. Unfortunately, the inefficiencies of the previous tiers are cumulative, making it much less practical for sustained use. If you find yourself fighting an opponent close to your level, then knowing how to avoid exhausting yourself is key.”

“How do you learn to cast silent and gestureless spells?”  I ask. “Are there any tricks?”

“Nope.  It’s all down to practice.  The closest you’ll get to a trick is occlumency, since it helps you instinctively recognise the flow of magic in your soul.  The mind and soul are far more intricately connected than most mages realise. But I digress. Lastly, there’s Tier IV casting.  It’s commonly called ‘wandless magic’, though it would be more accurate to describe it as ‘focusless magic’, since there are other types of foci besides wands.  Wandless magic is incredibly inefficient to use and extremely hard to learn, so it’s rarely something worth learning outside of some useful emergency spells.”

“What wandless spells do you know?”  I ask. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s at least learned a few.

Tamelyn smirks at me.  “Like I said, emergency spells.  Light, summoning, banishing, reviving, and dispelling.  Enough spells to last me in any situation where I don’t have immediate access to my wand.  I would have liked to learn more, especially for skills like apparition, but between my full schedule learning mind and soul magic combined with the fact that apparition isn’t taught until the end of sixth year…” she shrugs, “There simply wasn’t enough time.”

I let out a sigh.  “You just love dumping information on me, don’t you?”

She grins at me.  “You said you were up for a lecture.  Besides which, you should be grateful I’m around to teach you.  If you keep up with all of my impromptu lessons, you’ll be prepared for your N.E.W.T. exams before you even take your O.W.L.s.”

“Glad to know my nemesis is taking my education so seriously.”  I say, only half sarcastically.

“Well that’s certainly rude of you.”  She replies. “I certainly don’t consider you my nemesis.”

“You tried to kill me, then tried to possess me!”  I shout.

She leans sits down and lounges back.  “I will admit to acting on incomplete information.  My bad.”

“Your core self also tried to kill me.”  I add halfheartedly.

“The same core self that you are going to great lengths to convince me is insane?  I should hope it’s at least apparent that  _ I _ am perfectly sane.”

I stare at her, not quite convinced that she’s not joking.  “Tamelyn, even if you  _ aren’t _ insane, you still have a host of other issues.”

Her expression immediately sours.  “Well that was uncalled for, especially since you aren’t exactly a paragon of mental stability yourself.”

I wince.  “Sorry, I’m just… still getting used to this.  Both you being inside my head, and who you actually  _ are _ .  It’s been a lot to deal with, and not being able to talk about it has been driving me crazy.”

Tamelyn hums for a bit, gazing off into the void.  “I suppose we could talk later today, after you’re done with your classes and have finished your homework.  We can’t risk having you fall behind academically, after all.”

“You’re a better teacher than they are, anyways!  Why can’t I just turn in passable assignments and ace the tests?”

She stands up and walks over to me, her height making her tower over my sitting position.  “Because, Harry, getting good grades gets you in the teachers’ good graces. I was able to succeed as much as I did because I buttered up Slughorn, the Head of Slytherin House, at every opportunity.  I consistently got good grades and was therefore given greater leeway than many of my less academically inclined classmates. Grades are just another gateway to power.”

I groan.  “It’s always some kind of power play with you, isn’t it?  Why can’t you do something for a normal reason for once in your life?”

She merely grins cockily at me.  “Because I am far too exceptional to be mundane in  _ any _ way.”

 

* * *

 

As I pack my notes from Charms class into my bag, Slytherin’s journal catches my eye.  I remember wondering why muggle aversion charms weren’t used to protect wizarding settlements back then like they are today.  As everyone else files out of the classroom, I wait behind to speak with Professor Flitwick. It doesn’t take long after the last student exits the room for him to notice me.

“Yes, Mister Potter?”  He asks. “Was something not clear about the theory behind freezing charms?”

“Ah, no, that’s not it.  I was wondering if you could help me with something more… extracurricular in nature.”  Seeing him nod, I continue. “I was reading through some historical accounts about times before magicals separated themselves from muggles, and I was wondering why settlements didn’t simply use muggle-aversion charms the way they do nowadays?”

_ Oh, finally taking some academic initiative, are we? _

‘Shut up.’

Flitwick smiles at me.  “That is a very good question, Mister Potter.  Five points to Gryffindor for maintaining an inquisitive mind.  Alas, the answer is far from simple. Do you have anywhere to be after this?  I fear that a proper explanation may take a while.”

I shake my head.  “I have a free period until lunch, sir.”

Flitwick smiles.  “Very good then. Please, take a seat.”

I sit in a chair he summoned from across the room and wait for him to begin his explanation.

“The simple explanation is that, well, there’s technically no such thing as a muggle aversion charm.”  Seeing my confusion, he continues. “You are familiar with the Statute of Secrecy, of course?”

I nod.  “That’s the law that says we can’t reveal the existence of magic to any non-magicals unless they’re immediate relatives of a magical person, right?”

“Well, that’s certainly the legal end of things.  The truth is that the Statute of Secrecy is actually an enormous spell that covers the entire world.  It’s enforced legally, but it is in fact a purely magical creation. Part memory charm, part ward, part notice-me-not.  It was and is the grandest and most impressive work of magic ever created. You know about the history side of the Statute, correct?”

I nod again.  “It had to do with witch burnings and abductions, right?”

Flitwick sighs.  “I really do wish Albus would do the humane thing and exorcise Professor Binns.  He was a poor teacher even when he was alive, and death has not been kind to him.  Claiming that the Statute of Secrecy was enacted only because of witch burnings is an incredibly ethnocentric way of looking at it.  You are at least well-informed enough to know that abductions were another part of it, though that still doesn’t cover the entire picture.  Still, take another two points to Gryffindor for staying well-informed.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

He waves his hand.  “Think nothing of it.  It’s rare that I get to have such discussions, and I do find them quite enjoyable.”

‘I guess you’re not the only one who enjoys lecturing.’

_ Oh, ha ha. _

Flitwick continues his explanation.  “No, while witch burnings were an issue in Europe and a few parts of the colonies in the Americas, the Statute of Secrecy was a spell that covered the entire world, and required the global cooperation of magicals everywhere to complete.  Many magicals elsewhere had their own reasons for wanting to hide themselves. In India and the Americas, many magicals feared being crushed under the forces of colonialism brought by the Europeans. In Africa, young magicals were a prime target for slave traders.  Magicals in Eastern Europe and Asia weren’t facing any unified problems the way that other areas of the world were, but ultimately, the idea that we should hide ourselves from everyone else came forward, and thus, the Statute of Secrecy came to be. The idea came from a genius young man with little education in Tibet, but once the concept caught steam, the whole world quickly clung to the idea of hiding not only magical civilization, but magic itself and all of its historical records from the entire world.”

Oh, wow.  That’s way beyond what I would have expected.

“The Statute was designed to wipe every memory of magic from every living person who didn’t have it.  Historical accounts had to be purged manually, but those that were missed were quickly assumed to be myths and legends by those who had no reason to believe in magic.”

“But…”  My mind is still reeling.  “The statute still exists, right?   I thought charms couldn’t be permanent unless they were anchored by something…”

“Correct again, Mister Potter.  The anchoring of charms is the basis of creating wards.  Most wards are anchored to runestones, although there are a few that use other methods of anchoring.  Have you ever heard of the Fidelius charm?" I shake my head, so he continues his explanation. "The Fidelius charm is a powerful piece of magic used to ward an area, or in rare cases, knowledge.  It removes all knowledge of that thing from the minds of everyone in the world, except for a person who is designated as a 'secret keeper'. In this case, the secret keeper serves as the anchor for the charm, or more specifically, the secret keeper's ability to keep that information secret.  From that point on, they are the only one who can reveal the existence of that secret to anyone else."

"So… the Statute of Secrecy is a giant Fidelius charm hiding the existence of magic?"

"Not quite.  The Statute was  _ based _ on the Fidelius charm, but it is different.  After all, if it was a Fidelius, then there would only be a single secret keeper, and therefore, only one person in the whole world would be able to tell muggleborns and their parents about magic, which would be beyond impractical.  No, instead, the Statute hides the existence of magic from everyone who does not believe in magic."

It finally clicks with me.  "So, the anchor for the spell that hides the existence of magic from muggles… is muggles' refusal to believe in magic?"

"Exactly, Mister Potter.  It's a very ingenious piece of spellwork by any means.  It's not perfect, of course, but it prevents them from noticing certain magical phenomena altogether.  For example, muggles are incapable of seeing phoenixes and dementors.”

I shudder at the mention of dementors.

Flitwick smiles sadly.  “Yes, you do have a rather strong reaction to them.  Back to what I was saying, though, it’s witches and wizards that are the least hidden by the Statute.  After all, we do need to interact with muggles on occasion.”

_ Much to my dismay. _

‘Don’t interrupt!  This is interesting!’

Flitwick doesn’t notice my brief internal argument, so he continues his explanation.  “As a result, our displays of magic are not totally hidden from the view of muggles, hence why there is legal enforcement of the statute of secrecy.  After all, the more muggles there are that are willing to believe in magic, the weaker the Statute becomes.”

“This is… a lot to take in, Professor.”  I say, as if that isn’t the understatement of the year.

“Yes, well, now that you know all of that, we can go back to your original question: muggle aversion charms.  The simple fact is that there is no such thing as a muggle aversion charm. What we know as the muggle aversion charm is simply a way of drawing extra power from the statute so muggles don’t notice an area.”

“Is that why aversion charms are so advanced?  Because it’s technically ward modifying?”

Flitwick smiles and claps.  “Yes, very good. You’ve followed this better than many of my upper year students likely would have.  If you ever need any other questions answered, feel free to come to me for help. And do try and continue with your current grades.  It’s been a joy to see your work lately.”

I nod as I head for the door.  “I’ll do my best, Professor.”

‘Well that was informative.’

_ I already knew all of that, but I’m glad to see you taking the initiative.  This kind of stuff is exactly what I’m talking about when I say you should stay in the teachers’ good graces.  Ask good questions, keep them on their toes, allow them to explain elaborate concepts, and they see you as someone worth cultivating, and will make greater allowances for you in the future. _

‘I guess I see the appeal.  I mean, it’s nice being able to talk about stuff that the teachers rarely get to discuss.’

_ Exactly.  You enjoyed Professor Flitwick’s lecture, did you not? _

‘Yeah, I did.  I still can’t believe how little is taught about the Statute of Secrecy.’

_ Binns is not doing the world any favours by continuing to teach.  Thankfully, for those of us with ambition, knowledge is  _ **_always_ ** _ in reach. _

‘Us?’

_ Yes, “Us”.  At this point, I wouldn’t want to kill you even if I hadn’t sworn a magical oath to you.  It would be a waste of such stellar potential. You just needed someone like me to give you the right push to be able to use it. _

I roll my eyes.

‘I’m sure nothing could go wrong by having you as my role model.’

_ Sarcastic as ever, I see. _

‘Well, I have to cope somehow.’   


I find an out-of-the-way alcove and pull out Slytherin’s journal.  I don’t read it; I just stare at it for a while.

‘I still can’t believe how much accounts of Slytherin were messed up in the past millennium.  I mean, he was certainly a rough-mannered person, and he was a blood purist, but it feels like the modern depiction is just… exaggerated?’

_ History is written by the victors.  His falling out with the other founders meant that they got to write the records that became what we know as history. _

‘Yeah, I suppose so…’

Our conversation dies out and I continue to stare at the book.

‘I still can’t get over how complicated the Statute of Secrecy is.’

_ Yes, well, at least now you know why I aligned myself with the blood purists despite being a halfblood. _

‘Wait, what?  What does the Statute have to do with blood purity?’

_ Very little, and yet everything. _

‘Just answer the damn question, Tamelyn.  No need to go all poetic on me.’

_ Hmph.  You  _ **_were_ ** _ listening to Flitwick’s description of how the Statute is anchored, right? _

‘Of course.’

_ The fact that it’s anchored by muggles’ refusal to believe in magic means that every muggle that  _ **_does_ ** _ know about magic weakens the statute.  While this is no big deal in large areas like London, small areas with lesser populations have substantially fewer anchors, so each muggle who knows about magic weakens the Statute that much more. _

‘So?  I mean, it’s only the parents who are told, right?’

_ Muggles can’t be bound by magic the same way we can be, so we have no way of ensuring that they actually keep magic a secret. _

‘So, what, you’re afraid that the statute will be slightly weaker in a few areas because the muggleborns’ parents will know about magic and might tell a few other people?’

_ No, what I’m afraid of is a total cascade failure of the Statute that ends with the muggles wiping out as many magic users as they can. _

‘Cascade failure?’

_ It’s… Okay, imagine that there’s a small town with maybe a few hundred people in it.  One of them happens to be muggleborn. From there, all it takes is one slip up to risk a total collapse of the Statute in that area.  Maybe a parent gets a bit too drunk and starts saying things they shouldn’t, or maybe the muggleborn hasn't even received their letter yet and performs a powerful act of accidental magic in full view of everyone, or maybe the muggle parent panics and tells everyone when the letter arrives.  In a small town with a small population, it’s incredibly easy for the statute to undergo a total collapse in that area. Even obliviators coming in wouldn’t be able to re-establish the Statute if it had failed completely. From there, the statute is weaker and more prone to collapse in all surrounding areas.  If the Statute totally fails in one location, then it will quickly collapse  _ **_everywhere_ ** _. _

'So why couldn't the statute just be recast?'

_ It took the global cooperation of most of the world's magicals to cast the first time around, and that was back before muggles had cameras and airplanes.  By the time everyone else realised just how exposed and vulnerable we are, I'm not sure that there's be enough of us left. _

'You honestly think muggles could wipe out magical populations that easily?'

_ You saw my memory of the devastation that muggle bombs were able to inflict over fifty years ago.  I won't claim to be up to date on their technology, but I know that they've developed far worse things during the half-century I was stuck in a book. _

'But how would they even find us?  I mean, isn't every magical residence warded against detection?'

_ They're warded with Muggle aversion wards. _

'Which are powered by the Statute of Secrecy.  Oh.'

_ Yes, "Oh".  We would be far too exposed.  Hogwarts is an enormous castle that would be far too easy to locate if one was inclined to do so, and Diagon Alley is in the middle of London.  If the muggles were aware of us, they could wipe us out far too easily.   _

'What are the odds of the Statute collapsing like that, though?  And is it really worth throwing all of the muggleborns under the bus?'

_ It's unlikely, I assure you, but it only needs to happen once.  And while I would rather not spill magical blood at all, better to cut off the muggleborns than risk the entirety of our world. _

'So because you’re worried about the  _ possibility _ of the Statute collapsing, and the  _ possibility _ of muggles declaring war on us, and the  _ possibility _ that they’ll wipe us out, you’re prepared to just kill them all?'

_ The odds of the Statute collapsing are low, but it  _ **_will_ ** _ happen eventually.  I refuse to believe that we should just be sitting back without even trying to prevent it or prepare for it.  I’ve had the displeasure of living with muggles most of my life — They’re violent, aggressive and primitive creatures ruled by their fears.  It’s not a matter of  _ **_if_ ** _ they’ll declare war on us — it’s a matter of  _ **_when_ ** _. _

‘Just because you’ve had bad experiences with muggles doesn’t mean that they’re all bad.’

_ Have you ever met a nice one?  Like, actually met one who’s nice to you, not just nice to everyone besides you? _

‘…No.’

_ I stand by my assertion, then.  The closest muggles get to being good people is acting nice until they realise that you’re different, at which point they lash out like the animals that they are. _

‘…Even if what you say is true, which I don’t believe it is, I refuse to accept that killing muggleborns is the only way to keep the Statute from collapsing.’

_ It's not a pleasant choice to make, but it's a necessary one.  They’re a risk to the Statute when they’re young, and they have too many ties to the muggle world when they reach adulthood. _

'There have to be other ways, though.  Couldn't we just remove muggleborns from their families when they're still children?'

_ As a long-term solution, that would be viable.  We'd have to do it when they're still young so they don't remember their parents at all.  It's not safe to use extensive memory charms on someone younger than Hogwarts age, and if they still remember their parents, then they could easily hate us for taking them away.  In the long-term, tracking magical births would be ideal so we can abduct them shortly after they’re born, and that might be a viable solution if we could get it to work. Unfortunately, the only way to keep track of magical births is The Book of Names, the artefact used to send Hogwarts letters.  For security reasons, it's encrypted, so we'd have to find a way to recreate an ancient artefact whose secrets have been lost to the ages. The second best way to find muggleborns early on would be the ministry's accidental magic trackers, which are unreliable at best, and even that solution still risks exposure in the case of accidental magic.  Even if we do manage to go that route, there are plenty of muggleborns who would already be adults with plenty of ties to the muggle world, and they’d be a threat in their own right. _

'I still don't think that targeting the muggleborns is the only option, or even a good option.  While I understand why you’d want to reduce the contact that muggleborns have with the muggle world during their schooling, you’ll still have to deal with the large amount of muggleborns who aren’t of Hogwarts age.  You’ll need to track them down regardless of how you plan on dealing with them, and if you’re already tracking them down, then you may as well just remove them from the muggle world rather than killing them.’

_ … _

‘You know I’m right.  If you really want to protect that Statute, then you wouldn’t go about doing it by killing muggleborns and their parents.  If anything, you risk exposing us  _ more _ by doing that, since the mysterious deaths of a whole family will draw in a lot more attention than a single child going missing.’

_ …I concede your point.  But I still don’t like muggles, and I still think that they’re a threat, no matter how much you believe otherwise. _

I roll my eyes.  Small steps, Harry, small steps.

 

* * *

 

Having a free period in the late morning means I can attend lunch early, before the rest of the student body overtakes the room.  Hermione shows up shortly after I sit down, and Ron’s not far behind her.

“Where’d you disappear to, Harry?”  Ron asks. “You weren’t in the common room after class, and Hermione said you weren’t in the library.”

I shrug.  "I had some questions for Professor Flitwick about charms and got an impromptu lesson on history and warding.  I don’t think I ever appreciated how well-informed Flitwick is before now."

"Of course he's well-informed."  Hermione chides. "He's a teacher."

"So is Snape…"  Ron grumbles.

“Ron!  Just because we have issues with Professor Snape does not make him any less of a genius in his field!   Did you even know that he’s one of the only people to have obtained a Potions Mastery before the age of twenty-two?”

‘Is that impressive?’

_ Incredibly.  Masteries are only obtained through extensive apprenticeship and original research.  I was looking into obtaining several of my own, though my memories end before I actually got around to obtaining the necessary apprenticeships.  I should actually look into my records to see what I got up to in between my graduation and faking my own death… _

‘I would say “be my guest’, but it’s my body you’re going to have to hijack to do the research.’

_ Are you still angry at me over my attitude on murder? _

‘I would say more “concerned” than “angry”.’

“You said one of, right Hermione?”  I say, cutting off any possible retort Tamelyn could come up with.  “How many others were there?”

Hermione pulls out a rough stack of sheets and her copy of  _ Hogwarts: A History _ , because of  _ course _ she keeps a copy of that book on her at all times.  “Well, I found out about masteries when I was looking into making sure I was prepared for our N.E.W.T. exams-”

I groan.  “We’re third years, Hermione!  We won’t have to take those exams for four more years!”

Hermione gives me a sharp glare.  “That just means we have more time to prepare for them.  Anyways, as I was saying, I remembered reading about masteries, and when I next read through  _ Hogwarts: A History _ , I noticed the term being mentioned in the brief bit about Professor Snape, as well as a few of the Head Students.”

“ _ Snape’s _ in that book?”  I ask, feeling somewhat aghast.

“Of course he is!  He is a teacher!” She says, punctuating each word.  “No matter how determined you and Ron are to forget that simple fact!  Everyone who’s ever taught here in the past century is mentioned in this book, as well as everyone who’s ever obtained the title of Head Boy or Head Girl in the same timeframe.”

“I suppose that’s interesting.”  I say somewhat noncommittally. “You never answered my original question, though.  I mean, surely one of them is around and would have been a better teacher than Snape.”

“ _ Professor _ Snape, Harry, and I’m not sure who the others are.  Professor Snape is only mentioned because he obtained a teaching position, and the only other ones mentioned would be the Head Students, and it’s not like that information is indexed.  We’d have to look through each entry individually if we wanted to find out who had obtained masteries.”

Before Hermione has even finished her sentence, Tamelyn has shifted into control of my body and pointed my wand at Hermione’s book.

“ _ Scriptinvenio _ ‘Potions Mastery’.”

A few pages along the edge of the book start emitting a chartreuse glow, and the book flips to the nearest one.

“Where did you learn that spell?”  Hermione asks curtly.

“I picked it up somewhere.”  Tamelyn replies. “It’s a simple text search.  Incredibly useful for finding information on specific topics.”

‘You never taught me that spell.’

_ You never asked. _

‘Arse.  Seriously, though, where did you learn it?  One of Slytherin’s books?’

_ I invented it myself.  It was an incredible time-saver. _

Hermione clearly doesn’t trust Tamelyn’s nonanswer, but is apparently elated enough at the existence of a spell made specifically for books that she doesn’t press the issue.

“Let’s see here…” she says as she looks through the highlighted pages, “looks like there are only three head students from the past century who have potions mastery mentioned in their summary…”  she flips through the pages “…and only two of them did it before the age of twenty-two. One of them was Lily Evans, and she… Oh! She’s your mother, Harry.”  

I blink at that.  I never knew my mother was good at potions, least of all skilled enough to earn a mastery at a young age.

Hermione flips to a later page.  “The other one was a Slytherin Head Girl in the 1968-1969 school year.  Her name was Andromeda Black. Do you think she’s related to Sirius Black?”

I shrug.  “I don’t really know wizarding families any more than you do, Hermione.”

Hermione goes back to the book.  “It also says here that the Head Girl in the 1944-1945 school year, a Slytherin named Tamelyn Riddle, was offered to study for a mastery under Professor Slughorn shortly after she graduated, though she turned it down for a job at Borgin and Burkes.”

_ I worked at Borgin and Burkes!?  That place is a shitehole! _

‘I would criticise you, but I wound up there in a floo accident, and it really is a shitehole.  I’m more surprised that you, the person constantly harassing me to work on my studies, passed up an opportunity to study for a mastery.’

_ You and me both.  The only explanation I can think of is that I was using the job to track down magical artefacts, most likely ones I could use as horcruxes.  I… I  _ **_think_ ** _ I planned on making more than the… two?  The two that I’d made when my memories end. _

‘You’re not sure?’

_ No.  My memories in the months after my graduation are filled with gaps.  I would normally suspect memory charms, but in all likelihood the diary was simply close to being full, so my core self decided to be more sparing with what memories I was going to have.  The last date I can recall is… sometime in early September, 1945. I don’t recall the exact date, though the memory in question is about a news report. _

‘I thought occlumency gave you perfect recall!  How can you not remember if you planned on making more horcruxes!?’

_ Like I said, apparently, my core self decided those memories weren’t necessary for me to have.  In a way, it makes sense, since if I don’t know where the horcruxes are, then no one will be able to find them, making them totally safe.   _

‘Is that normal for giving horcruxes memories?’

_ Truth be told, I don’t think  _ **_anyone_ ** _ has tried making a sapient horcrux before me.  I only did it as an absolute failsafe in case my core self suffered some sort of brain damage or memory loss, so at least  _ **_some_ ** _ version of myself could live on.  Death of the mind is hardly better than death of the body, after all.  Anyways, it might be a good idea for me to review my memories to check for anything I might not be able to recall offhand. _

‘ _ All _ of your memories?  All eighteen years?’

_ While I have a good memory, I can’t recall anything from my infancy, so it’ll be closer to fifteen years worth, and most of those will be easy to look over.  This shouldn’t take too long unless I decide to be very thorough. _

“HARRY!”

I jump in my seat.  “Yes, Hermione?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past minute!  You keep spacing out these days! Are you not sleeping well or something?  You always seem to do fine in class, so clearly it’s not affecting you all the time…”

I bite back a sigh.  “I’ve been practicing meditation lately.”  I say in a half-truth. “It improves focus and helps with magic, but I do tend to get lost in my thoughts if an idea comes to me.”

_ Hey, not a bad lie.  You really are getting better at this. _

‘I wouldn’t even have to lie if you’d stop distracting me.’

_ Oh, but where would you be without me?  You’d still be an underachieving little Gryffindor barely scratching the surface of your admittedly impressive potential. _

‘I’d also be taking Ancient Runes instead of the waste of time that is Divination class.’

“Are you sure you’re meditating right?”  Hermione asks. “That sounds like a bad side effect…”

I wave my hand dismissively.  “It’s fine. This is a known side effect that resolves itself with time.”

Hermione stares at me inquisitively, but says nothing before turning back to her food and her book.

_ I certainly hope our conundrum “resolves itself”.  I sure don’t fancy being in your head for the rest of your mortal life. _

‘For once, we are in total agreement.’

 

* * *

 

Later that night, I muse to myself that part of me really wants to grill Tamelyn.  I know that she’s had awful experiences with muggles, but that doesn’t mean that every single muggle is just as awful.  Sure the Durselys were awful, but they were just terrible people, and it’s not like everyone else was as bad as them!

Well, okay, the rest of the neighbourhood was just as bad.  Just as obsessed with normalcy and keeping up appearances, judging everyone for being even slightly different.

The teachers were pretty awful, too.  None of them cared if Dudley attacked me, and no matter how many times he did so,  _ I _ was the “delinquent”.  I still can’t forget the burning embarrassment the one time I tried to succeed on a test, and was brought before the principal and accused of cheating.

I suppose my experiences with muggles aren’t that great, if I’m being honest with myself.  I never really did meet one who was actually nice to me. I know it was most likely because the Dursleys were tainting their minds against me, but…

Well, my experiences certainly don’t invalidate Tamelyn’s theory that muggles are implicitly afraid of magic users for reasons they’re not sure of.  Even Hermione had a pretty awful experience with the muggle education system, though at least she had parents and teachers on her side. Or at least they pretended to be on her side.  Maybe they were just as afraid of her as everyone else was.

So no, as much as I was to grill her, I know I can’t.  How can I convince her that she’s wrong if I don’t even believe that she’s  _ totally _ wrong?

I push my doubts to the side.  Even if she  _ is _ right, her solution of mass-murder is way too extreme for me to condone under any circumstance.  I still think that, if magicals need to segregate themselves from muggles, then it would be best to do so at birth.  No matter how complicated the Book of Names is, Tamelyn should at least be smart enough to recreate it eventually, especially if she’s as immortal as she claims.  If she’s not going to die, then she should have plenty of time to approach the problem.

_ You having fun in your thoughts, there? _

‘Well, I was until you interrupted.’

_ Well, do hurry up.  If I need to look back over my memories, then it’s something best done while I’m asleep.  The mind is more susceptible to dynamic influence, so it will be an easier process. _

‘Yeah, about that…’

_ What? _

‘Can I… watch?  Your memories, that is?’

I don’t know why I asked.  Part of me is just rediscovering the sense of curiosity that the Dursleys tried so hard to beat out of me.  Part of me just wants to understand her better.

_ I’m not about to throw you into my entire life story.  While you would certainly learn a lot, reliving all of my memories would affect you pretty profoundly.  Profoundly enough that Dumbledore might catch on. _

‘What’s with you and Dumbledore, anyways?’

_ What’s with me and Dumbledore!?  That bastard made the worst first impression possible!  He…! Hmmm… _

‘Yes?’

_ Well, while I won’t let you see all of my memories, I could show you a few.  I have the perfect one to show you, when you have a chance. _

‘No time like the present.’

_ Then get to sleep so we can get on with it. _

Sleep doesn’t come to me too easily, but when it does, Tamelyn wastes no time before pulling up the memory.

_ Have fun with this one. _

 

* * *

 

_ I sit in my bed, reading through one of the reference books that the library was about to throw out.  What a waste of reading material that would have been. Just because the binding is a bit loose doesn’t mean that the words on the pages suddenly stop working. _

_ I instinctively tense when I hear voices and footsteps approaching.  Voices approaching usually just means that it’s another resident of the orphanage, usually one who hasn’t learned the lesson that I am  _ **_not_ ** _ to be messed with.  Some of the obstinate ones took a few lessons to learn to leave me alone.  Most only took one. _

_ But audible footsteps mean adults, and the adults are harder to scare off.  I could still make them hurt, but hurting adults has consequences that hurting kids doesn’t.  Adults have power of their own, even if it’s weaker than power like mine. _

_ I just hope they didn’t send another person here to try and “fix” me.  I still have nightmares about drowning after what that one priest did when he tried to “exorcise the demon” out of me. _

_ The footsteps approach my door, and a gentle knock sounds throughout the room before Mrs. Cole peeks in. _

_ “Tamelyn?  You have a visitor.” _

_ I try and maintain my composure.  I can’t afford to look weak in front of a person I don’t know.  If he sees me acting weak then he’ll know he can take advantage of me. _

_ “Alright.”  I reply without looking up from my book.  The words on the page soothe me, making it easier not to panic about the stranger being left alone in my room.  Mrs. Cole closes the door with a gentle click, leaving me alone with the man. I glance up to try and see what he’s doing, but freeze once I get a look at him. _

_ He’s wearing a velvet suit dyed a dull orange.  His tie and buttons are bright green. As if the colours weren’t bad enough, he has a long beard of reddish-brown hair that goes almost to his waist. _

_ “Miss Riddle?”  He says, trying to get my attention.  “Can you look at me, please?” _

_ No one ever wants me to look at them unless I’m about to get in trouble for something.  I don’t know what I’m being accused of this time, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of scaring me.  I close my book and keep my face as blank as I can before staring him in the eye. _

_ “Yes?”  I ask. _

_ He introduces himself.  “My name is Albus Dumbledore.  I am here on behalf of an institution that is looking to have you enroll for the upcoming year.” _

_ I glare at him as hard as I can.  “Oh, so is  _ **_that_ ** _ what their calling the asylum these days?  An institution seeking my enrollment? I’m afraid that I won’t fall for your little ploy, so do both of us a favour and leave.  I won’t be going to the asylum for  _ **_any_ ** _ reason.” _

_ I watch him carefully as he takes in my response.  Before he can say anything back to me, I stare at him and push myself into his mind.  If I can pick his secrets from his head, then I know how to deal with whatever trickery he has planned. _

_ Much to my horror, I can’t find anything in his mind.  I feel like I’m running into a brick wall every time I try and push myself into his head.  Whoever this man is, he has the ability to stop me from reading his mind. The implications of that are horrifying. _

_ Mister Dumbledore frowns, almost as if he  _ **_knows_ ** _ I’m trying to read his mind.  “Ah, I’m afraid that you have the wrong idea, Miss Riddle.  I am in fact a teacher at a school that has you listed for enrollment since your birth.  It is a school for people with special abilities much like the ones that you have. People with magic.” _

_ I stare at him.  “…Magic.” _

_ He nods.  “Yes, that’s right.  Magic. Surely you’ve noticed that sometimes things tend to happen around you, even if you don’t mean for them to?” _

_ It only happened unintentionally the first few times, actually.  It was pretty easy to isolate the feeling and reproduce the results.  I decide not to tell this man that, though. Even if he can provide answers, he’s still an adult, and I’ve learned the hard way not to trust adults. _

_ “I…”  What  _ **_should_ ** _ I tell him?  I don’t want to give him too much information, so I err on the side of vagueness.  “Bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can stop them from being mean. I can make them hurt.” _

_ Mr. Dumbledore’s face turns more serious.  “Yes, that’s what we call accidental magic.  It’s a natural response to powerful emotions.  As you grow older, your magic stabilises and you’ll need to learn to command it on your own, which is what we teach you at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” _

_ “And you can do this?”  I ask. “You can make your magic do whatever you want?  And I won’t be able to use my magic anymore unless I learn to control it at your school?”  I feel like I’m being forced into this. I don’t like being forced into things, but my power… magic is far too important to me to risk losing. _

_ “Of course.  Would you like a demonstration?” _

_ I nod hesitantly. _

_ Dumbledore pulls a carved stick out of his robes. _

_ He waves it, and next thing I know, my wardrobe is on fire. _

_ I clench my fists in barely restrained panic.  What the hell is wrong with this guy!? _

_ “I think something in there would like to be let out, Tamelyn.” _

_ I stare at him in shock before I slowly walk towards the burning wardrobe.  Now that the initial panic is wearing off, I realise that the flames around the wardrobe aren’t giving off any heat.  I open the door, the flames licking at my skin, but not burning me. I pull up the loose board on the bottom to find that the box I use to store things that I stole off of the other children is shaking violently.  Once I pick it up, the shaking stops, and the false flames around the wardrobe vanish. _

_ “Stealing is not permitted at Hogwarts, and discipline will be enforced should you fail to follow the rules.”  Dumbledore says as though he didn’t just pretend to burn all of my belongings into ash. “I expect all of these items to be returned in short order.” _

_ I bite my tongue and look down.  I don’t want him to see the rage I feel towards him at that moment.  Dumbledore is just like every adult I’ve ever met. He tries to use shows of power to force me into submission, to make me follow his rules. _

_ Unlike every other adult, I’ve dealt with, though, he isn’t powerless.  He has magic of his own, and he has many more years of using it than I do.  I refuse to bend to other people’s whims, and I only see one way to do that. _

_ I need to become stronger than everyone else, so  _ **_no one_ ** _ can force me to do  _ **_anything_ ** _.  No one can torture me or starve me or imprison me if I’m too strong to be contained.  Before, having magic was enough to get me out of the worst situations, because no one else had magic.  Now I’ll be dealing with other people with magic, so I need to become better at magic than all of them. _

_ “Here is your letter, your school supply list, and your train ticket.”  Dumbledore says as he gives me an envelope. “Would you like me to escort you to Diagon Alley to pick up your supplies?” _

_ Oh, there is no way I will submit myself to this man’s supervision.  It’s bad enough that he’ll be a teacher at the school. _

_ “I think I’d prefer to go on my own, Mr. Dumbledore.” _

_ Dumbledore nods, then writes some instructions on the back of my acceptance letter.  As he gets up to go, he turns back to face me. _

_ “As you are on orphan, once you go to Diagon Alley, you should go to Gringotts and ask for access to the Hogwarts scholarship fund, which should provide you with enough to get your basic school supplies.”  He pauses for a moment. “And before I go, I should warn you. You should refrain from using any of your supplies to perform magic once you get them, as students are not permitted to use magic outside of school.  Any breaches of this law will be met with reprimand from the Ministry of Magic.” _

_ I freeze.  No. No no no no no no no.  Magic is… Magic has been the only way I have to protect myself.  It’s how I stop the older kids from picking on me. It’s how I make sure no one steals my food so I don’t have to go hungry.  It’s how I escape when they try and lock me up. I can’t afford not to use magic. _

_ But I also can’t afford to go against an entire government full of magicals.  Not yet, anyways. _

_ Maybe someday. _

_ “No magic at all?”  I ask. “Not even the… accidental magic?” _

_ “We’d hardly be fair if we punished children for accidents.”  Dumbledore replies, as though adults don’t punish children for accidents all the time.  “Accidental magic is nonpunishable, though you should stop having any incidents by the time of your thirteenth birthday.” _

_ That gives me a time limit, then.  I need to figure out how to use magic without being tracked by my thirteenth birthday. _

_ Dumbledore exits my room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.  I need to get as much information as I can as soon as possible.  I look over the directions to Diagon Alley and decide to go now. I refuse to step into this new world being weak and clueless. _

 

* * *

 

I find myself unceremoniously dumped back in the emptiness of my mind, feeling briefly shocked by the sensation of my own identity re-establishing itself.

“That’s why I don’t like Dumbledore.”  Tamelyn says from behind me. “He tried to cow me into following  _ his _ rules by making a show of power, and I  _ refuse _ to let anyone have power over me.”

I blink.   My mind is still reeling as it tries to catch up.

“And what arsehole pretends to burn all of the belongings of a child they don’t even  _ know! _ ”  She continues, her voice seething with a level of rage I’ve never seen her display.  “Apparently, trying to teach a child that ‘stealing is wrong’ means that you can go to any lengths to do so!”

“Um…”  I’m not even sure where to start.  “What kinds of things had you stolen?”

She shrugs.  “Small things, mostly.  I just tried to steal a valued object from everyone in that orphanage who made the mistake of tormenting me.  Just enough that they’d know that bad things happen to people who mess with me.”

“Did you return them like Dumbledore asked?”

She lets out a wry laugh.  “Yes, I did, and what a mistake that was.  I didn’t trust Dumbledore not to check in just to make sure that the items were actually returned, but in hindsight, it would have been better to deal with his consequences.  Once they saw that I had returned all of the items that I’d taken, they stopped seeing me as all-powerful and began to see me as a target again. Eventually, it culminated in me being locked in my room during an air raid, an experience I’m sure you recall vividly.”

I nod slowly.

“After I survived that bombing, I made sure to teach everyone involved a lesson.  I was far past the age where accidental magic was supposed to be possible, but I was able to force out enough for a display that ensured that they never doubted my power again.  I almost gave myself a case of magical exhaustion doing so, but the impact of what I did lingered for the remainder of my school days.”

“Magical exhaustion?”  I’ve heard the term thrown around once or twice, but I’m not actually sure what it is.

“Oh, that’s what happens when you try to use magic while your core is depleted.  Your soul forces itself to draw in magic to power the spell, but it damages itself slightly in the process.”

I blink.  “Is that a… common worry?”

“Hardly.  You suffered a minor case when you killed my core self’s host in your first year, but it’s incredibly hard to exhaust yourself.  You’re only thirteen and, if you tried, you could cast continuously for over an hour without being anywhere near the point of magical exhaustion.”

“I won’t experience any detrimental effects from when I was eleven, would I?”

Tamelyn shakes her head.  “Soul damage isn’t permanent, remember?  It heals itself naturally with time to long as the damage isn’t repeated.  Besides which, the soul damage from magical exhaustion is minor, especially compared to stuff like what I did to the Weasley girl, or when-  …The point is that you’ll be fine. It’s incredibly hard to affect the soul in any permanent fashion, which is why horcruxes are so rare and the killing curse is so hard to cast.”

“Right.”  I say, leaning back and staring up.  Not that up is visibly different from any other direction in this place.  It’s all black.

Tamelyn sits down and crosses her legs.  I try very hard not to pay too much attention to said legs.  It’s much harder than I would have expected, but then, there aren’t any other interesting things to look at, since there’s literally nothing else here.  It was also much easier not to stare when our earlier conversation about the Statute of Secrecy remained on my mind. Now all my frustration at her feels drowned out by the vicarious anger I’m feeling towards Dumbledore.

“Do you feel bad about stealing from the other children?”  I ask, desperate for a distraction.

“No.  Why would I?”

I push myself up and look at her.  “Because stealing is wrong?”

Tamelyn lets out a long sigh.  “Saying that something is unconditionally wrong is a fundamental error of morality.  Right and wrong, good and evil, these are all subjective concepts without any true value unless contextualised.  Even then, I never cared to live by a moral code. ‘There is no good or evil; there is only power and those too weak to seek it’.”

“Your core self said that to me when I first met her.”

“Salazar Slytherin said it originally.  I always admired his philosophical musings on morality.”

We’re both silent for a moment before, in a twist of usual circumstances, she asks me a question.

“Why did you never steal things when you lived at your aunt and uncle’s?”

I stop and think about it.  “I did steal food on occasion, mostly so I wouldn’t actually starve.  Hiding the evidence was always tricky, though. I had to be careful not to open something that wasn’t open already, not to finish off something that wasn’t already empty, and not to take enough that it would be noticed.”

“…Do you regret not stealing non-food items while you were with them?”

“I’m… not sure.  I’d probably say I don’t regret it, mostly because I know that there was almost no chance of me getting away with things.  I didn’t have any real space to hide things where my aunt and uncle wouldn’t find them. There was barely enough space in the cupboard for me, let alone anything else.”

“If you could have gotten away with it, would you have done it?”

“…Probably.”  That’s not exactly a pleasant epiphany.

Tamelyn’s said it plenty of times, but I find myself forced to admit just how similar we really are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** Whew! Sorry that this chapter took so long to get out. Between being on vacation after publishing the last chapter, then getting sick for a week, then focusing on putting out a Scrambled Sorting chapter, then having a case of writer’s block, this one took far longer to complete than I would have liked.
> 
> There are a lot of info-dumps in this chapter, though I should be done with them for the most part. Tamelyn’s motivations were extremely hard to write. I think I got the right balance for how I want to portray Tamelyn in the end, though.
> 
> With regards to Dumbledore… I have a lot of issues with the way Dumbledore handled things in canon. I don’t enjoy a lot of the tropes associated with the standard manipulative Dumbledore archetype, but it’s also hard to deny that Dumbledore made a large number of things far more complicated or problematic than they needed to be. Seriously, why the fuck would you pretend to light an orphan’s wardrobe on fire to teach them a lesson? Not to mention that sending Harry to live with magic-hating muggles was a horrible choice that could very easily have turned him into a second Tom Riddle.
> 
> Also, I don’t normally shill fics in my notes, but I’m making an exception here. Leyrann, author of The Advantages of Being Sane, has published the first chapter of his larger and grander fic, Riddle of the Ages. I’ve been clued in to a lot of his long-term plans for the fic, and while he has requested that I do not share them publicly, I will say that everything I have heard so far shows amazing promise.
> 
> Lastly, special thanks to Xgenje and Foadar for their help with editing, and to BolshevikMuppet99 for his feedback on the Statute of Secrecy scene.
> 
>  **E/N (Foadar):** I like most of this chapter, even if some of my personal headcanons differ. It has gotten my hopes up for a… Binnxorcism? We need a term. Invent one in the reviews, if you please :P
> 
>  **E/N (Xgenje):** Reading this story, and the way Ten is world building, has actually opened my eyes to a lot of concepts that didn’t quite make sense in the canon-verse and sets them up in a really interesting way. I’m amazed that canon Riddle didn’t actually attack DumbleBore for lighting their only possessions on fire. I would have been on him like stink on sewage.
> 
> The rate Ten pumps these chapters out is honestly ridiculous though.


	13. Winter

December comes, and it brings with it the usual constant snowfall of early winter.  Quidditch practices are quickly put on hold (which is nice, since I lack a broom with which to practice), and the lack of such activities means that I have fewer excuses not to let Tamelyn take control and spend time researching.

_ I can’t figure it out. _

‘Figure what out?  We’ve kind of had a lot on our minds recently.’

_ I suppose that’s true.  In this case, I was talking about the Shrieking Shack. _

‘Seriously?   _ That’s _ what you choose to focus on right now?  Between your need to get a body of your own, our need to figure out why your core self wanted to kill me, your promises to teach me legilimency, and the fact that I shot down your anti-muggleborn argument, you choose to rekindle our Shrieking Shack investigation?’

_ I wanted to research something low-stress.  I needed a break from the more important projects. _

‘And your solution was to go back to a frustrating investigation that’s proven to be full of dead ends?  Why don’t you just, I don’t know, do whatever it is you do to relax?’

_ Research  _ **_is_ ** _ how I relax. _

‘Somehow, I’m not surprised to learn that your only hobby is less stressful work.  It explains a  _ lot _ about you.’

_ Hey! _

‘Well it does!’

_ …Hmph. _

I take control of my body and wave my wand to send all of the research materials back to their proper shelves.  It’s honestly amazing how much magic I’ve been able to pick up just from feeling Tamelyn control my body. That’s probably been the best part of our arrangement so far.

‘Why don’t you just use your text-searching spell to look through newspapers?  Surely that would be more efficient than searching each one like you’ve been doing.’

_ The text-search spell is… finicky.  It doesn’t work very well on newspapers, since they don’t have any binding. _

‘Well, if you invented this spell, why don’t you just change or adjust it so it  _ can _ work on newspapers?’

_ …I’m not even going to begin explaining why that won’t work.  Spell creation is insanely complicated. It’s not like accidental magic where you just have to visualise what you want to happen.  Wand magic is highly structured and organised, so only certain things will work. I created a spell that searches pages for mention on a certain word phrase, but it only searches multiple pages if they’re bound together. _

‘That seems like an arbitrary limitation.’

_ Oh, it  _ **_is_ ** _ an arbitrary limitation.  Sometimes I think that magic is sentient but barely understands people, so it’s just very bad at figuring out exactly what we want.  Either that or it’s sapient and deliberately fucking with us. _

I walk out of the library and pause, trying to decide what to do.  Exams for the autumn term are coming up, so I don’t have any homework left to do.  My broom is wrecked so I can’t go flying. Ron is trying desperately to catch up on his homework for the term, so I can’t play chess with him, and Hermione is almost certainly splitting her time between her own unnecessary studying and chiding Ron for procrastinating while helping him catch up on his work, so I can’t really hang out with her either…

Wow, I really don’t have many hobbies, do I?

I could go see Hagrid, but I really don’t feel like trekking through the snow at the moment…

‘I think I’m going to go speak with Lupin.’

_ Good idea.  Ask him about the Shrieking Shack.  He was probably a student around that time that it first became “haunted”. _

I roll my eyes as I walk towards the Defence classroom.

‘You need a break.  And probably a hobby, too.’

_ I’ll think over the hobby thing.   Don’t expect any results. I’m not really one for leisure. _

‘I find that extremely easy to believe.’

Peeves rounds the corner and throws several dungbombs at me, which I promptly vanish with a wave of my wand.

‘The way you explained it, I thought silent casting would be harder than this.’

_ It normally would be, but you’re able to “borrow” my knowledge and experience with magic to access higher tiers more easily, which is then backed up by the frankly absurd power of our combined cores.  All magic will be easier for you like this. Hell, you may be able to master wandless magic before the start of your fifth year at this rate. _

‘That’s probably the first reason I’ve come up with not to get you out of my body as soon as we can.’

_ Oh, don’t even joke about that.  I have no plans on being here any longer than necessary. _

‘Realistically, how long is that going to take?  I mean, you have a plan to get out, at least.’

_ Alchemy is complicated.  I’ll need a lot more time to finish understanding the principles before I can even start attempting the basics.  From there, I’ll need to get in plenty of practice to make sure I actually know what I’m doing. Unfortunately, we’re building a body the hard way for my plans. _

‘Why go for the hardest course of action?’

_ Because it will be the closest possible match for what my body was like at the age of eighteen.  If I’m going to go through the trouble of making a body for myself, then I will be doing it properly.  Especially since our situation, while problematic, opens up some new opportunities. _

None of the moving staircases are at my current landing, so I jump down to the floor below and cast a cushioning charm as I land.

‘I don’t think I ever appreciated just how exhilarating magic was before this.’

_ It really is amazing, isn’t it?  Once you start getting good at magic, you really learn to appreciate just how powerful and useful it is.  After all it’s hardly practical to use a spell if you need a precise wand movement and specifically intoned incantation.  When you start learning to do whatever you want with a wave of your wand, you learn just how powerful magic can truly make us. _

I rap my knuckles on the door to Lupin’s office.  His voice sounds through the door shortly.

“You can come in, Harry.”

I open the door and see Professor Lupin tucking a piece of parchment into his robes as he moves to pour us each a cup of tea.

“How did you know it was me, si-Remus?”

Lupin just smiles.  “Well, that would be telling, wouldn’t it?  A master never reveals his secrets, you know.”

‘Is he joking?  I can’t tell.’

_ Me neither.  It’s kind of weird how friendly he is with you, in my opinion. _

‘I know, right?  I mean, I get that he was friends with my dad, but I’m kind of weirded out by how, I don’t know,  _ invested _ in me he seems.’

_ You’re weirded out, yet you keep coming back here. _

‘I mean… I guess I just like the idea that an adult cares about me for reasons besides my being the “boy-who-lived”.’

_ …Yeah, I guess I understand. _

Lupin finishes preparing the cups of tea, so I ask him Tamelyn’s question.

“Professor, do you know anything about the Shrieking Shack?”

Lupin nearly stumbles at my question, though he somehow refrains from spilling the tea as he sits down.

“What makes you ask that, Harry?”  He replies with clearly failing composure.

_ Huh, looks like he knows something after all.  I really didn’t expect him to know anything. _

‘Yet you still had me ask him?’

_ It pays to be thorough.  Let this experience be proof of that. _

“I’ve been trying to investigate it, and you’re probably the only adult I know of who was a student around the time when it first became haunted.”

Lupin’s smile falters.  “And when  _ did _ it first become haunted, according to your research?”

“Sometime between 1963, when the previous owners died, and the mid-seventies, when the Hogwarts ghosts began avoiding the area.”  Lupin visibly relaxes at my explanation, so I press him. "What do you know about it?"

He smiles again, though it's obviously forced.  "I'm afraid I couldn't tell you much more about it beyond what most people would be able to."

…Is he kidding me?  He doesn't actually think that I would buy that, does he?  "I don't appreciate being lied to, Professor. I’ve had to deal with enough of it already."

Lupin winces at my accusation.  "I suppose I was pretty transparent."  He says with a sigh. "I wasn't lying though — there's a lot of stuff about the Shrieking Shack that I literally  _ cannot _ tell you."

_ Well that's interesting.  His choice of language makes me suspect an oath. _

'That does seem likely.  Should I press him further?'

_ I don't see why not.  Go for it. _

"I see.  Who did you swear an oath to?"

Lupin sighs.  “No oaths, just a modified unbreakable vow with several escape clauses that we apparently misworded since we were children.”

‘Escape clause?’

_ It’s a way of preventing a vow from being permanent.  For example, you could swear a vow that will only be in effect for five years, or that it will only be in effect so long as certain conditions remain true.  It’s one of the major reasons that most people use unbreakable vows instead of magical oaths. _

‘Wait, why did we swear oaths then?’

_ Because we are sharing a body.  Unbreakable vows require both parties to hold their wands up to each other, something that we are physically incapable of doing. _

‘I guess that makes sense.’

“So…” I say, jumping back to my conversation with Lupin, “You swore a vow with someone else and now you can’t tell me anything about the Shrieking Shack?”

“That’s… mostly true.  There are some things that I can tell you about it, but they’re all very personal.  I’ll be sure to tell you someday, but I don’t think I’m ready now. Alright?”

I nod and sip my tea for a while before Lupin asks me a question.

“Harry, you said that you’ve had to deal with a lot of people lying to you.  Could you give me some examples of the sorts of lies that people have told you?”

I think it over for a bit, debating how much to tell him, or if I should even reply at all.

_ I say you go for it.  If you’re lucky, it might shake his faith in Dumbledore, which can only be a good thing for us.  Anything to keep his attention off of us. _

“Dumbledore’s done it a few times, like back at the end of my first year.  He told me that the reason Quirrel, whom Voldemort was possessing, couldn’t touch me was because of my mother’s love for me, when it was actually some sort of ritual that was completed with her death.  And then he refused to tell me why Voldemort was so focused on me, giving me nothing more than a vague explanation that he would ‘tell me when I was older’, as if that isn’t the hallmark phrase of adults who just don’t want to answer questions.”

“An unfortunate reality of adulthood, Harry, is realising that you can’t go telling everyone everything.  Sometimes, information does have to be withheld for someone else’s own good. It’s never a pleasant choice to make, but it’s a necessary one.”

‘Given that I had just burned a man to death with my bare hands, I’d like to think I was entitled to  _ some _ form of information.’

_ Especially since it’s information that’s clearly pertinent now.  My core self is still out to get you, so knowing why would at least help you be more prepared. _

Lupin looks a bit alarmed at my mention of burning a man to death, but doesn’t press me on it.  “Was there anyone else who lied to you?” He asks.

“Well, my relatives did, but… I’d rather not talk about them, if you don’t mind.”

Lupin’s brow furrows.  “Harry, are you… happy at your relatives’?”

I don’t wince, much as I’d like to.  “I said that I’d rather not talk about it, sir.”

“Right, yes, I suppose you did.”  He says with a sigh.

_ I can see why you keep coming back here.  It’s nice to have an adult who backs off when you’d rather not talk about something.  Slughorn filled that role for me while I was at Hogwarts, though he was never personally invested in me the way that Lupin seems to be with you. _

‘You’ll have to tell me more about Slughorn someday.’

_ Oh, he was a terrible person who was more concerned with networking than anything else, but those networking skills meant he was very good at knowing not to pry, which I appreciated.  He was also very well-informed, which helped when I had questions about some of magic’s more obscure aspects. _

“So, Professor, you knew my mum, too, right?  You’ve told me a lot of stories about my dad, but not many about her.  I’d like to know more about her, especially since she was smart enough to come up with a ritual capable of blocking the killing curse.”

Lupin’s face quickly shows the same wistfulness that he gets whenever he talks about his childhood.  “I didn’t know your mother nearly as well as I knew your father. She rather hated our guts for the first several years of our schooling, and not entirely without reason.  We were troublemakers of the highest calibre, after all. That said, Lily found me less offensive than she did the rest of our group.”

“What was she like?”

“She was… a genius.  I honestly think that if Hogwarts allowed it, she would have been moved ahead a year or two.  She excelled at pretty much everything she put her mind to, though she did tend to get a bit… wrapped up in her academics.  Alice constantly had to constantly remind her to eat and sleep so she didn’t spend all of her time trying to solve whatever problem caught her fancy.”

“Alice?”  I ask. I don’t remember him mentioning anyone named Alice before.

“Alice Prince, the mother of your friend Neville.  She wasn’t friends with your mother, not back in school, at least, but they were acquaintances, since they were in the same dorm.  Anyways, going back to your mother, she was the sort of person to throw herself completely into any project that caught her attention.  Even though she hated us, she wound up helping out with a few of our pranks, even if the help was inadvertent on her part. On one occasion, your dad approached her with a problem he was having with a modification that he was trying to make to a potion, and she vanished into the library for almost a week before she spontaneously reappeared with a recipe for the modified potion.”

“What was the potion?”  Tamelyn asks, slipping into control for a moment.

“Ah, I’m afraid that information falls under the unbreakable vow I mentioned.”

_ That’s a pity.  Potion modification is an extremely advanced process that very few are ever capable of. _

‘Hmm…”

“So, if my parents disliked each other so much, then how did they end up getting married?”  I ask.

“Ah, your father wound up maturing quite a bit after an… incident in our sixth year.  Enough that he ended up becoming Head Boy and usurping my position of prefect when we came back for our seventh year.  Your mother also severed ties with… her best friend in her sixth year, so she and James ended up becoming friends, and later, more than friends.”

It seems bizarre to me that two who were at odds for so long were able to enter a successful romance together.  I can’t imagine that ever happening to me.

I suppose stranger things have happened, though.

 

* * *

 

Mastering wandless magic is much harder than mastering silent and gestureless magic.  I’ve been trying to ignite a piece of parchment sitting on the table in front of me for the past fifteen minutes to no avail.

_ Well, maybe if you were to  _ **_not_ ** _ embrace your inner pyromaniac and try working with one of the wandless spells that I already know, you’d be having more success! _

‘I’ve already been using your experience to cast silently and gesturelessly, and do you know what?  As much fun as it is, it feels like I’m cheating. I want to actually  _ work _ for this.’

_ Harry, you’re not even halfway through your third year.  You are not going to master a wandless spell at the tender age of thirteen. _

‘And that lack of mastery won’t be for a lack of trying on my part.’

_ Gods, maybe you should have been in Hufflepuff with  _ **_that_ ** _ attitude. _

‘You know, your militant dislike of Hufflepuff is kind of hilariously clichéd.’

_ Hey! _

‘Well it is!’

_ I bet you’d be more anti-Hufflepuff if I was in your head last year when they all thought you were the Heir of Slytherin… _

‘If you were in my head last year, then there wouldn’t have been an “Heir of Slytherin” for people to accuse me of being.’

_ They were still being mindless idiots about it. _

‘And I am quite certain that that had less to do with them being Hufflepuffs and more to do with them being just as prone to conclusion jumping as the rest of Magical Britain.’

_ Okay, that’s fair.  I retain my right to dislike Hufflepuffs, though. _

I roll my eyes and go back to trying to light the parchment on fire.  It still fails to spontaneously combust.

_ Funnily enough, they weren’t even wrong.  You  _ **_are_ ** _ an Heir of Slytherin. _

‘So you keep reminding me.’

I stop trying to ignite the parchment and instead try to levitate it.  Levitation is just as hard as fire, apparently.

“Are you done trying to light that parchment on fire with your mind, Harry?”  A voice calls from behind me.

I look backwards to see Katie standing over me with a teasing smile on her face.  I spend a moment wondering how she knew what I was trying to do before I realise she was quoting a muggle euphemism.

“Not yet, but I can take a break if you’d like.”

“C’mon, then.  The twins are setting up some snow forts for a snowball fight before most of us leave Hogwarts for the break.  They wanted us to grab as many people as possible for their ‘grand celebration of mayhem’.”

“Sure, I have nothing better to do.  Let me just grab my cloak and boots and I’ll meet you there.  Main courtyard, I assume?”

Katie nods in affirmation so I head up to my dorm to grab my things.

_ Seriously?  A snowball fight?  You’re participating in a snowball fight? _

‘Well, it’s not like there’s anything else to do.  Besides, the twins throw together some really good group activities.’

_ Spending a while playing in the snow seems like such a waste of time, though… _

‘It’s fun.  I think I’m allowed to have fun once in a while, even if your demented workaholic attitude disagrees.’

_ Ugh.  Fine. _

Ron and Hermione are quietly talking to each other on the edge of the courtyard while Fred, George, and Lee are constructing some unnecessarily intricate snow forts.  I watch them for a moment, admiring the way they combine manual labor and wandwork in their building efforts. In the back of my mind, Tamelyn continues to grumble about this being a waste of time.

I cast a warming charm at myself as more people trickle into the courtyard.  The entirety of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams seem to be present, as do a few other members from their houses.  Much to my surprise, a few members of the Slytherin quidditch team are there as well, including Marcus Flint, their captain.

My curiosity piqued, I spot Alicia in the crowd and ask her why they’re here.

“Oh, them?  They overheard us when we were asking a few members of the Ravenclaw team in the great hall and asked to join.  I didn’t care enough to chase them off.

“Really?”  I ask, surprised at her attitude.  “Even with how brutally they play during matches?”

“Harry, have you ever seen a professional quidditch match?  What they do is pretty tame in comparison. While it may be extreme for a school quidditch match, I plan on going pro once I get out of school.  If I’m being honest, I consider their brutal playstyle to be good practice for my future career.”

“Huh.”  I never honestly considered it that way.  “So nothing they do is illegal?”

Alicia shrugs.  “Most of it isn’t at least.  I mean, don’t you think that Hooch would have called more fouls on them if they were?  They obviously push things too far at times, but for the most part, they just play very aggressively within the rules of the game.”

I blink a few times.  “I suppose that’s not really too surprising, now that I think about it.  I mean, muggle sports can be just as brutal, and they don’t have magical healing to make injuries heal faster.”  I never really did think much about it, but my knowledge of quidditch was extremely limited back during my first game, and none of the other teams played as aggressively, so I guess I just assumed that the Slytherins were constantly breaking the rules and getting away with it.

_ Way to be biased against Slytherins, Potter. _

‘Shut up.  Just for a few moments.  Please. You keep grumbling about the cold despite the fact that I applied a warming charm.’

_ It’s the principle of the matter.  It’s beneath us to be out here in this sort of weather. _

Fred’s (or possibly George’s) shouting interrupts me before I have a chance to gripe back at her.

“Oi!  It looks like everyone who’s going to be here is here, so my esteemed colleagues and I thought we might take this opportunity to establish some rules for this little game before we get started!”

Rules?  They must be taking this really seriously if they’re actually putting rules into it.

“Rule number one is this!”  The other twin says, picking up seamlessly from the first.  “It’s quite simple, really.” He waves his wand, and huge piles of snow appear above the waiting crowds before plummeting downwards, blanketing us.

“There are no rules!”  Lee shouts from atop one of the snow forts.  

I realise that I should have expected this as I start dodging the hail of snowfire that begins flying around.  I quickly take cover behind a snow bank while the twins and Jordan continue to pelt everyone in the gathered crowd with magically commanded snowballs.  A few people attempt to take cover in the second fort that the twins constructed, though given the screams I can hear coming from within, I assume it’s trapped.

An older student jumps over the snowbank and begins taking cover with me.  “Y’know,” he says to me, “Somehow, I expected this to be a standard snowball fight with two teams, rather than ‘free-for-all versus Jordan and the Weasley twins’.”

“They’re certainly good at defying expectations.”  I reply as I try and place a name to his face. He’s one of the Slytherin chasers, so he must be… “Warrington, right?”

Warrington grins.  “Hey, I didn’t actually expect you to know my name.  You’ve got such a small social bubble that I didn’t actually think you actually knew anyone’s names aside from your Gryffindor yearmates and Malfoy.”

“I’m trying to branch out.”  I say as a wave of snow collides against the snow bank, splashing powdery frost over the two of us.  “Got any plans?”

“For what I want to do in life, or for dealing with the twins?”

I roll my eyes.  “For dealing with Jordan and the twins, obviously.  I don’t think we’re well-acquainted enough to go into your life plans just yet.”

Warrington snickers.  “Suit yourself, Potter.  Do you know how to cast a physical shield?  That’s probably our best bet against those snowballs.  I don’t trust them not to have rigged them with all sorts of pranks.”

I’m about to say that I don’t know how to cast a physical shield when Tamelyn butts in.

_ I can’t give you the instinctual knowledge of how to cast the spell, but I think I can give you the knowledge of the wand movement and incantation. _

Information on how to cast the spell flows into my mind.

“I know the incantation and wand movement, but I’ve never tried to cast it before.”  I reply.

“Well, looks like you get to test it out in the field.  Let’s start this out with a bang, shall we?” Warrington says with the same sort of grin that the Weasley twins have when they’re about to prank someone.  “You’ll want to step back from the snowbank for this.”

I push myself back from the snow as Warrington whips out his wand and yells “ _ Expulso! _ ”

The mound of snow is blasted towards the centre of the courtyard where the Weasleys set up their fortification, obscuring everything in a short-lived cloud of snow.  Warrington wastes no time before rushing forward and casting a fire-stream charm at the snow fort. As the airborne snow clears, it quickly becomes apparent that his flames aren’t having any effects on the snow.

“What the hell!”  He shouts. “Did you guys ward the snow or something!?  That shouldn’t even be possible!”

“A master never tells his secrets, Cassius.”  One of the twins says. “Now prepare to taste defeat!”

Warrington starts dodging a barrage of snowballs thrown by Jordan and the twins.  I watch the snowballs thrown at Warrington, and note that they do indeed have tricks built in.  Some swerve around to go for indirect shots, others accelerate after being thrown, some release clouds of smoke, and all of them are likely charmed to play some sort of minor pranks given the state of everyone else in the courtyard.  For instance, Hermione’s hair has been turned a dark shade of purple, and Ron is sporting a small pair of antlers. I was hiding behind that snowbank for less than ten minutes, and in that time, almost everyone seems to have been hit at least once.

_ Hey, um… _

‘Yes?’

_ Mind if I take over for a bit? _

‘…Why?  I’d really rather not go back inside yet, if you don’t mind,’

_ No, it’s just… _

‘Yes?’

_ It kind of looks fun. _

It goes without saying that Tamelyn almost certainly hasn’t been in an  _ actual _ snowball fight before.  If the similarities in our upbringings hold true, then her only experience with snowball fights before Hogwarts was being ruthlessly targeted by the other children and tattled on when she dared to strike back.  It’s not an experience that endears one to the sport, or to snow in any form. It took witnessing the beauty of a Hogwarts winter combined with frequent insistence on outdoor activities from the Weasleys to reopen my eyes to the beauty of winter.

Tamelyn, not having had any friends during her Hogwarts years, would have had no one to push her boundaries and force her to try things she wouldn’t have been inclined towards in the first place.  Even her sorting into Slytherin wouldn’t have helped, since the windows in her common room would have given her a view under the lake, rather than that of the beautiful snowy landscape.

Watching this hectic snowball fight is probably the first time she’s realised that playing in the snow can actually be fun.

‘…Fine, you can take over.  Just avoid doing anything permanent harm, okay?’

_ I wouldn’t dream of it, Harry. _

Tamelyn pulls my wand out of my pocket as we exchange control.

“ _ Aegis. _ ”  Tamelyn murmurs as she waves my wand in a circle, bringing a shimmering grey shield into existence around us.

_ The downside to physical shields is that they’re two-way.  So while it will stop objects from getting inside the shield, it also prevents objects already inside the shield from leaving. _

‘So you’re going to rely on spellfire instead of snowballs?’

_ Hm… No.  I think I can do better than that.  Time to see if my time studying alchemy is worth anything when it comes to application… _

Tamelyn waves my wand at a pile of snow, slowly forming part of it into a snowball.  The process takes less than a minute, but still feels painstakingly slow.

‘That seemed like a lot of effort to make a snowball.’

_ Alchemy is hard.  If it was easy, it would be taught in first year with the rest of the core subjects. _

‘Why not just transfigure it?’

_ Transfiguration is temporary.  Anything made by alchemy is permanent.  Moreover, alchemy can be performed from a greater distance than transfiguration can.  Turning a lump of snow into a snowball is probably the simplest thing I could have done. _

‘And it still took you several minutes.  You have to make a body using this process?’

_ Not entirely.  I’ll be using a different process under the same field.  Haven’t you been paying attention while I’ve been reading? _

‘Absolutely not.  I can barely follow what those books say, so I usually just leave you be and focus on my occlumency meditation.’

_ Well, at least you’re not wasting time.  Still, you should try and at least pay attention.  I’ll try not to get too annoyed if you ask any questions.  Now then, let’s go back to this snowball fight so I can whoop some arse. _

‘You know, this is just supposed to be a casual snowball fight…’

_ Sure, that’s what they  _ **_want_ ** _ you to think.  Look at the twins, Harry.  They are  _ **_revelling_ ** _ in the power of what they believe to be an assured victory.  It’s time for me to prove them wrong. _

I would normally roll my eyes, but since I’m not in control of my body, I’m unable to do so.

_ Well, if alchemy’s out, then this shield is worthless.  I suppose I’ll just have to take cover and build up some munitions for a bit. _

Tamelyn cancels the shield and jumps behind one of the remaining snowbanks, staring at the snow that composes it.

A short silence permeates the air.

_ Harry, how do I make a snowball? _

‘Um… You grab snow and pack it into a ball?  It’s not that complicated.’

_ I've never done it before, and I wanted to ensure that there were no tricks to making a snowball properly.  Much as I hate admitting this shortcoming to you, I would rather tell you than push ahead and risk embarrassing myself in front of your peers. _

'…It's a snowball Tamelyn.  It's not that complicated. The worst case scenario is that it falls apart midair.'

_ Which is unacceptable.  It's a display of weakness. _

'It's just a snowball fight, Tam.  You  _ don't _ need to take it this seriously.'

_ Everything short of perfection is irrelevant.  Now help me make a snowball. _

I try and guide my hands without taking back full control of my body.  It adds a further element of surrealness to my already surreal life. I idly wonder if this is what a possession feels like under normal circumstances.

_ …That's it?  That's all there is to it? _

'I did say that it wasn't that complicated.'

_ Hmph. _

Tamelyn starts making more snowballs and I just watch her move.  After doing that for a minute or so, I shift my focus away from her work on focus on my occlumency, not that there's much work to be done.  Since I've done all of the basic setup of occlumency, at this point, any further work I can do on my own would just be learning to get a better feel for my mind.  Tamelyn told me that I could learn to repel legilimency at this point, but I would need a legilimens to try and read my thoughts. It's something I'm not anxious to try, even if my oath would prevent any potential legilimens from gleaning the existence of my companion.

_ Okay, time to make an impression. _

Tamelyn has formed a large pile of snowballs and is drawing my wand out of my pocket.

'Is it really necessary to use my wand for this?'

_ I would rather not take my chances with throwing the snowballs by hand.  I have no experience and would like to make all of my shots hit. Besides, something tells me I'll want to have a shield ready. _

‘Knowing the twins, you’re probably right.’

_ Of course I’m right.  Now then… _

She flicks my wand at the pile and casts a low-power animation spell.  I feel them lying in wait, ready for commands, as Tamelyn walks out to the centre of the courtyard, commanding everyone else’s attention.

“I think that’s quite enough of that, don’t you agree?  It’s time for the fight to be won by the  _ real _ champion.”  She says, arrogant grin adorning my features.

“It seems we have a challenger, my dear comrades.”  One twin says.

“Indeed, and quite a confident one, at that.”  The other twin continues.

“Well, we certainly can’t let such confidence go unchallenged, can we lads?”  Jordan finishes.”

Snowballs start flying in our direction, though Tamelyn quickly recasts the physical shield, causing them all to splash harmlessly against it.

“You’ll have to do better than that, boys!”  Tamelyn laughs as she commands her own snowballs to start attacking them.

The trio takes cover behind the parapets of their fort, though the animation charm on the snowballs lets them arc over the cover to hit their intended targets.  One of the twins pokes his head up, the remnants of a snowball clearly visible in his orange hair.

“Well that was rude of you, Harry.  Animated snowballs? Why, that’s downright unsportsmanlike.”

“Anything to assure a victory!”  Tamelyn fires back.

“Well, if that’s how you’re going to play, then we should step up our game, then!”

‘Oh Tamelyn, what have you done…?’

_ I am allowing myself to fight my opponents at their true strength, so I can prove myself superior to them. _

Fred and George began throwing snowballs at the same time that Tamelyn recasts her shield.  Rather than make more snowballs of her own, she starts using my wand to redirect some of them back to the twins, leaving the rest to splash harmlessly against her shield.  After a few seconds of dodging, they break out their own shields, at which point Tamelyn starts firing shield-breakers at them in between redirecting their snowballs. After that, the snowballs they throw start taking unusual paths, corkscrewing through the air or arcing over us to hit the shield from behind.  None of the ones that hit the shield actually affect its integrity, though.

‘This seems too easy.’

_ Yes, it does.  Are they not taking this seriously?  They aren’t casting any spells, just throwing more snowballs… _

‘I can never tell with those two.’

Tamelyn flicks my wand at an incoming snowball.  Its path is unaffected by her spell, and it collides with the shield, shattering it.

_ What the-? _

Tamelyn’s remark is cut off as another snowball hits us in the back of the head.  She whirls around to see Katie idly tossing a snowball in her hand.

“You let your guard down, Harry.  You need to be more careful than that.  Fred and George aren’t your only opponents.”  She says as she lobs another snowball at us.

We easily dodge it, but Tamelyn doesn’t take the insult lightly and summons a large  quantity of snow from the bank behind Katie, sending her keeling over as it hits her from behind.

“Oops.”  Tamelyn says with a malicious grin.

“Playing dirty, are you?  Well fine, two people can play dirty.”  Katie pulls herself out of the snow and turns to the rest of the courtyard.  “Hey Everyone! Two sickles to each person who lands a hit on Potter!”

_ Oh, crap. _

Tamelyn quickly goes on the defensive as most of the participants turn on us.  After several seconds of dodging spells and letting the snowballs splatter against the shield, Tamelyn changes approach and switches from an Aegis shield to a Protego shield, and begins wandlessly banishing any incoming snow.

‘Isn’t that a bit flashy?’

_ I am fighting against very unfavourable odds.  As it is, if I wasn’t able to draw on our combined strength, then the shield would have collapsed already.  I’m finding myself wishing that I could cast the shield wandlessly, so I could use the wand to go on the offense.  None of the wandless spells I know are particularly well-suited to offence. _

‘So what you’re telling me is that we’re fucked.’

_ I might be able to blind most of them for a second if I overcharged a lumos, but I’d rather not risk magical exhaustion by overcharging a wandless spell. _

A series of simultaneous shots from several of the attacking crowd break the shield, and the second it causes Tamelyn’s focus to falter is all that’s needed for several snowballs to hit us.

The snowball fight turns to a more even tide after that brief moment of arse-whooping, though Katie’s promise of payment made us a favourite target for the rest of the fight.  Eventually, everything winds down and people start making their way into the great hall to warm up. As Tamelyn grows bored of the snowball fight, I slip back into control of my body and make my way inside, only to be stopped by Katie in the entrance hall.

“Hey, Harry, I don’t suppose you could break a few galleons for me, could you?  And maybe lend me a few, on top of that? I may have overextended myself with my offer of payment earlier.”

I raise an eyebrow.  “You want me… to pay you… so you can pay back other people for hitting me in a snowball fight?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking of you.  I didn’t expect that many people would be able to hit you.  C’mon, do a girl a favour, will you?”

I rub my forehead in exasperation.  “Katie, this is the third time this year that you’ve needed me to lend you money.  I know that’s it’s never been much, but can you  _ please _ try and exercise some fiscal responsibility?”

Katie nods.  “I’ll take your advice to heart.  So will you lend me the money?”

I sigh and pull several galleons out of my pocket.  “I don’t have any sickles on me, so you’ll have to find someone else to break them.”

Katie pulls me into a tight hug.  “Thanks, Harry! You’re the best!”  She says before running off.

_ I’m surprised you tolerate that kind of behaviour from her. _

‘I like Katie.  Besides, she’s been good about helping me with homework over the past two years whenever Hermione isn’t available.  I owe her a lot for all of the help she gave me last year after Hermione was petrified. I see this as paying her back for all the help she’s given me.’

_ I wouldn’t have guessed that from watching you interact. _

‘That’s just part of our relationship.’

_ Hmph. _

I pour myself a cup of hot chocolate from one of the pitchers on the Gryffindor table and relish in the heat that spreads through my body from the first sip.

‘Well, regardless of the outcome, that was fun.’

_ Yeah… I suppose it was. _

‘Glad to see you’re relaxing your standards a bit, Tam.’

 

* * *

 

“So, Tam,” I greet her as we rest inside of our dreamspace, “why are you so disparaging of other houses?  I mean, I know you take pride in your house and your ancestry…”

“Our ancestry.”  She corrects.

I ignore her.  “…But I’ve heard you use every other house as an insult at some point.  Seriously, where did that attitude come from?”

She’s silent for a moment, thinking it over.  “What makes you bring this up?”

“Eh, just your comment in the common room earlier when I was trying to learn a wandless spell.”

“Ah.”  She sighs and stretches.  “A lot of it was witnessing the students in the other houses when I was in school.  I’m not about to claim that  _ any _ of my peers were intelligent, but most of the Slytherins were at least sensible.”

“That’s basically the opposite of my experience.”  I muse.

“Yes, well, from your year, Malfoy and his two goons somehow tricked the Sorting Hat into putting them into Slytherin, and they’ve spent an unreasonable amount of time tormenting you since.  The Slytherins in my era were more like Greengrass or Nott than those three. None of them were fond of me, of course, since I came into Slytherin house with a muggle name and no knowledge of the wizarding world, but they were sensible enough not to try and challenge me to midnight trophy room duels.  Nor were they foolish enough to fall for such obvious traps.” She says, a faint hint of amusement visible upon her features.

“Yeah, yeah.”  I grouse as I lean back on the ground.  I still haven’t figured out how to interact with the environment like she does.  “So it was just your peers being sensible that made you prefer the house?”

“That and the Sorting Hat.”

“The Sorting Hat?”  I ask as I turn my head to the side to look at her.  “What happened during your sorting? The Hat told me that I could become great in Slytherin, but…”

“You didn’t have the best impressions of the house, nor were you in any way looking to become great at the time.  We are similar, but we are not the same. We were both thrust into the magical world with no support and minimal help, but while I decided to immerse myself in the culture and learn everything I could to become as strong and knowledgeable as possible, you desired nothing more than to fade into the woodwork.  Though I wouldn’t say you’re particularly well-suited to Gryffindor, either.”

I shrug.  “I think I was well-suited to it back in first year.  Probably not so much nowadays. You’ve been… well, I can’t say you’ve been a  _ good _ influence on me, but you’ve definitely been  _ an _ influence on me.”

Tamelyn laughs at my joke, a rare occurrence of levity between us.  “C’mon, I’ll show you my memory of my sorting.

 

* * *

 

_ I stare upwards at the enchanted ceiling of the great hall, entranced by the sight.  In London, it was never possible to see this many stars at night. It’s a view so beautiful that it makes me want to leave muggle life and the city behind forever so I can always look up at night and see the stars… _

_ Dumbledore starts reading names off of a list so we can be sorted, a process that seems to consist mostly of putting on an old hat and having it shout out a house.  Most students are sorted in seconds. I wonder if the process is random? It seems too fast for the Hat to be able to sensibly sort people. Then again, some students take a while.  Minerva McGonagall seems to be one of them. The Hat stays on her head for several minutes before putting her in Gryffindor. _

_ The Gryffindor table is just to the right of the central aisle where the students are lined up.  It’s boisterous and loud, two things that I hate. I don’t think I’d like to go there. _

_ Eventually, Dumbledore calls my name. _

_ “Riddle, Tamelyn!” _

_ I crush the panic and anxiety that I feel rising in my chest and walk towards the hat, keeping my face calm and my posture as straight as possible.  As I sit down on the stool, Dumbledore places the Hat on my head, which promptly falls over my eyes, preventing me from seeing. _

**_Well this is interesting…_ **

_ I freeze at the sound of the voice in my head. _

_ Um… Hi? _

**_Hello, Miss Riddle.  You know, I didn’t expect another student I would actually have to talk to this year.  Normally, I just sort through their memories and put them in the appropriate house. Your sorting requires additional input from you, so you can be put in your proper house._ **

_ Everyone else gets put somewhere automatically?  I’m special, though, and I get to provide my own input? _

**_You could truly go into any house, though Ravenclaw and Slytherin would be best suited for your strengths.  Ravenclaw would suit your thirst for knowledge and Slytherin would help you quench your ambitions. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff could help you find camaraderie and friendship that you’ve been deprived of your whole life._ **

_ I don’t want to be in Gryffindor.  They’re too loud, and too excitable.  It’s not for me. _

**_And friendship?  You’ve never had friends before…_ **

_ I’ve been without friends my whole life.  I don’t need them now. _

**_Hmm…  Let me ask you a question, Miss Riddle.  What is it that you want? What do you want to do with your life?_ **

_ I want to learn as much about magic as possible and become as strong as possible. _

**_And why is that?  Why do you want it?_ **

_ I want to become strong so that no one can have power over me.  I refuse to let myself be weaker than anyone else. I refuse to ever let myself feel weak ever again. _

**_Hm… I suppose there is only one house in which you will truly become what you seek.  You do have potential here, Miss Riddle. The path you will walk will not be easy, but with the right drive, you truly could become stronger than anyone.  I wish you the best of luck in your endeavours._ **

_ “SLYTHERIN!”  The Hat shouts.  I make my way to the table on the side of the room, catching a brief glance of the disapproval on Dumbledore’s face as I make my way over there. _

_ Well what does he know?  The Hat said I could become stronger than anyone.  I don’t need the approval of people like Dumbledore.  In fact, his disapproval is probably a good thing. I still resent him for the wardrobe incident. _

_ Many of my housemates shoot hostile glares at me as I sit down.  I keep my posture straight, trying not to let their glares affect me.  The Hat did say that my path would be difficult. _

_ Someday, I’ll be better than all of them. _

 

* * *

 

“So that was it?”  I ask as the world reasserts itself after the memory.  “It doesn’t exactly seem like the sort of experience that would lead one to resent other houses…”

“No, I imagine that it wouldn’t, not at first glance at least…”  Tamelyn responds. “I spent a lot of time thinking over what the Hat said to me, you know.  I didn’t exactly have much of a social life, so there was plenty of time to mull things over.  It’s just… Everyone in Slytherin house had a goal. They all wanted to  _ do _ something with their life, something to change the world.  Did you know that, despite only being about a quarter of the population, more than half of Magical Britain’s business leaders and politicians are Slytherins?  Most of the people with the power to truly affect the world all come from a single house.”

“I’ve not been involved with politics.”  I reply casually.

“And I don’t blame you for that.  It’s an ugly field in any world, magical or muggle.  But the Hat told me that I could only truly succeed in my goal if I went to Slytherin.  Looking back on it, I think it had a point. I don’t think I could have succeeded elsewhere.”

“Are you really so convinced that Slytherin was the only place you could have succeeded?  Moreover, are you  _ really _ sure that Slytherin house is where all of the truly ambitious and visionary people are sorted?  I don’t know much about what Hogwarts was like when you attended the school, but based on what I see of the house nowadays, that doesn’t seem to hold true.  Frankly, I’m kind of skeptical that it was ever true in the first place.”

“What’s your theory, then?”  She asks, intrigued.

“I think that Slytherin house has cultivated a culture of networking.  You said that youe head of house was a networker, right? I imagine that he ended up spreading that mentality to a lot of his house, so it’s not necessarily that the Slytherins end up being the only ones who  _ have _ ambitions, but that they end up being the only ones who end up with enough influence to  _ succeed _ in their ambitions.  Not to mention that most of the house ends up being purebloods from old families, so they’re the ones who are more likely to get jobs and funding through sheer nepotism.”   


Tamelyn mulls over my theory.  “I suppose that could be true — it’s certainly not something I’d considered before.  I suppose if I really wanted to know the answer, then I’d have to do some very thorough research.  Your reasoning does have merit, though.”

“So no more calling me a Gryffindor as an insult?”  I ask teasingly.

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that, Harry.”  She says with a remorseless grin. “Old habits  _ do _ die hard, after all.”

 

* * *

 

Alchemy is very complicated.  Just about anyone could guess that.  What’s less well-known is that alchemy is  _ boring _ .  I’m making a token effort to follow along to the alchemy text at Tamelyn’s request, but my vision keeps glazing over as I try and follow along.

‘Please, stop.  You’re killing me here.’

_ This is important stuff, Harry!  Alchemy is based on the founding principles of materials and magic!  Everything in your potions book is based on this knowledge. _

‘And my eyes glaze over when I read the potions book, too.’

_ It’s no wonder you struggle in potions class, if that’s the case. _

‘Why would I need to use my own knowledge when I can ask the “genius companion in my head”?’

_ Playing to my ego, are you? Clever… _

‘Seriously, though, can we please take a break?’

_ And do what?  There’s barely anyone left in the castle, and Lupin is sick again, so it’s not like you can go visit him. _

‘You said you could teach me legilimency.  Why not start on that?’

_ Because there’s no way for you to safely test it on magicals without their consent, and that is  _ **_not_ ** _ something you want people knowing that you’re studying. _

‘How do people learn the skill if they don’t want knowledge of it being spread around?’

_ Most people hire tutors who are bound by some sort of magical contract or vow.  In my case, I practiced on unwitting muggles in the orphanage and around London.  There’s no chance of being caught doing legilimency on a muggle, so they make the best choice of target.  As I hope should be obvious, there are no muggles in Hogwarts, so unless you have a way to sneak us out of the castle, then you won’t be able to learn legilimency any time soon. _

‘…I don’t know a way out of the castle, but I know some people who might.’

 

* * *

 

“Fred, George.”  I say as I approach the twins.  “I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”

“Well, Harry, I imagine that we  _ could _ help you with almost anything.  There is very little that we can’t do after all.”  The first twin (Fred, I guess) replies.

“Indeed, the true question is if we  _ will _ help you.  After all, while our genius is infinite, our time is not.”  George(?) adds.

“Given your… superlative knowledge of the school, I was wondering if you two might know a way to sneak off the grounds without drawing too much attention.”  I say.

The twins exchange a glance and begin an explanation.  “Well, the short answer is yes, we know several hidden passages that leave the grounds.  There are seven passages that connect to various points in and around Hogsmeade.”

“Four of them are known by Filch, so using them is highly risky and inadvisable.  One is under the whomping willow, and we have no idea where it goes. We’ve never been able to keep the tree still long enough to get past.”

“One is located behind a mirror on the fourth floor and connects to an alley behind The Three Broomsticks.  Just casting  _ Alohomora _ on the mirror lets you pass through it like it’s not even there.  Unfortunately, that passage collapsed at the end of last year after one of our… experiments went wrong, and we haven’t had a chance to repair it yet.”

“The last passage is accessed by casting  _ Dissendium _ on the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor, and connects to the cellar of Honeydukes.  While we are certain that Filch doesn’t know of it, we  _ aren’t _ certain that no one else knows.  Not anymore, at least.”

“You see, Harry, we had this lovely item that we nicked from Filch’s office back in our first year.  The keyword in this case being ‘had’.”

“It was a most delightful map that showed the entire castle.  Every room and secret passage and all of their occupants was laid bare upon its parchment surface.”

“Alas, after almost four years with it, we were caught and it was confiscated.  So, while Filch does not know about the passage in question, we can’t promise that no one else does.  That said, given that the break just started, this is probably the best time to sneak out if you want to do so.  The teachers are probably less alert now that most of the student body has left.”

I blink my eyes as I try and recover from their back and forth.  “Right, so, third floor corridor witch statue. I’ve never heard of this ‘Dissendium’ spell, though.”

“It’s not an actual spell.   It’s really just a password that you need to say with your wand out.  It’s probably why Filch never discovered that passage, though, what with him being a squib and all.”

I nod.  “Alright, then.  Anything else I should know?”

The twins exchange a glance.  “You may want to use that ‘secret cloak’ of yours.  The Honeydukes cellar is off-limits to customers, so it’ll help you sneak back in.  Fred and I nearly got caught doing that, once.”

“Best of luck, Harry!  We’ll cover for you if anyone asks where you’ve gone.”

I move up to my room so I can grab my cloak.

‘I hate when they alternate sentences like that.  It always gives me a headache.’

_ It is both annoying and headache inducing.  I am very glad that you don’t share any classes with them.  I’d hate to put up with that on a daily basis. _

 

* * *

 

I stay under my cloak as I make my way towards the one-eyed witch statue, taking care to avoid the ghosts that float through the halls.

‘So, once we get to Hogsmeade, what’s the plan?  Take a floo to the Leaky Cauldron and head into muggle London?’

_ I mean, if we wanted to be inefficient  _ **_and_ ** _ draw the attention of the pub’s occupants, then yes, we could do that.  Instead, we are going to apparate to a side alley on the muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron once we get past the outer perimeter of the castle’s wards. _

‘If we can apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, then why did you make me take the Knight Bus there this summer?’

_ Two reasons.  One, I hadn’t been to the Leaky Cauldron for about fifty years.  As such, my memories of the area may not have been accurate to the area in its current state.  Knowing the details about an area is vital when it comes to apparition, and I wasn’t keen to test it with out of date memories and risk splinching us. _

I don’t know what splinching is, but it sounds wholly unpleasant.  As I mull that over, I see the distinctive shape of the one-eyed witch statue.  I pull out my wand and quietly whisper “ _ Dissendium _ ” at the statue, causing a medium-sized hole to appear in the statue’s back.  I peer into the hole, seeing mostly darkness with some hints of light further down.

‘Well, nothing for it, I suppose.’

I jump into the hole, which quickly levels off into a brief slide.  I glance back at the smooth stone surface behind me, which has clearly been worn down by centuries of  use.

‘That’s going to be a pain to climb back up.’

_ It certainly seems so. _

‘So, what was the second reason for taking the Knight Bus instead of apparating?’

_ Oh, I like the Knight Bus.  That’s it. _

‘I’m amazed that you enjoy the Knight Bus, yet have a problem with my flying.’

_ Unlike your flying, the Knight Bus is actually safe. _

I ignore her jab and start walking down the passage, taking in the rough-hewn appearance of the stone, as though it was constructed in a hurry.

‘Why are there so many passages that connect to Hogsmeade, anyways?  Isn’t it a bit of a security risk?’

_ I imagine many of these are from the early pre-Statute days when abductions were a more common occurrence.  They were probably designed so that civilians in Hogsmeade could quickly evacuate to the fortified castle in the case of an attack. _

It’s the first time we’ve discussed the Statute after our disagreement over the best way to preserve it.  It’s still a bit of a sore spot for both of us, as I was annoyed at the fact that she was willing to support genocide, even as a last resort to prevent an apocalyptic scenario, and Tamelyn’s too prideful to admit that her willingness to do so was based on flawed judgement.  Given that we’re still forced to live with each other for now, it’s easier for both of us if we just don’t bring it up.

‘How will we know when we cross the ward line?’

_ We’ll have to try and feel out for any major changes in the magic of the area. _

It takes another ten minutes before I feel it: a faint shift in air as we cross one of the countless wall-sconces in the length tunnel.

‘Was that it?’

_ Yes, I believe it was.  Walk for another few metres, then I’ll take over and apparate us. _

Once I reach the next sconce, Tamelyn takes over and pulls out my wand.  The world falls out from beneath me and is replaced by an all-encompassing suffocation that lasts for a single instant that draws on for far too long before a different ground comes back to meet us.  If I was in control of my body, I would be heaving on the ground right now.

‘That was awful.’

_ You get used to it.  Now come on, let’s find a café somewhere. _

‘Why a café?’

_ It’s somewhere where we can reasonably spend a long period of time without spending a lot of money or attracting too much attention.  You can reasonably spend hours at a café without anyone raising an eyebrow. _

‘We could do the same at a public library.’

_ Yes, but it’s not easy to make eye contact with anyone in a library, since most people will have their nose stuck in a book.  A café is our best bet for easy legilimency targets. _

Tamelyn transfigures my robes into some more mugglish clothing, and causally summons the wallet off of a random pedestrian.  She pulls a few notes out of the wallet before running up behind him and profferring it. With a modest denial of a reward, we start making our way through the streets while keeping an eye out for any cafés or coffee shops as we do so.  After twenty minutes or so of aimless wandering, we find a decent-looking one and head inside. I order a tea (which I pay for with the stolen notes), and find a seat in the corner.

‘Looks like we got here just before the lunch rush.’

_ Yes, that’s good.  The lunch rush will bring in plenty of people.  Now then, ready for the lesson to start? _

‘I suppose so.  Care to start with how I’m supposed to wield my wand in public without attracting undue attention?’

_ Ah, that’s the glory of legilimency.  Unlike almost every other spell, even when it’s  _ **_cast_ ** _ with a wand, the spell isn’t  _ **_aimed_ ** _ with a wand.  Normally, if you were to cast, say, a stunner, then you’d aim your wand to aim the spell.  When you cast a legilimency probe, then you use the wand as a focus to amplify the power, but you aim the spell with your eyes.  As such, you can cast the spell by gripping your wand in your inner pocket, and no one would be the wiser. _

‘I see.  So where should we start?’

_ Start by getting a hang of the sensation of the spell.  Grab your wand and give it a half-twist clockwise while whispering “Legilimens”. _

I grip the wand inside of my jacket and whisper the incantation.  I feel a sensation of magic pooling up in my eyes that quickly dissipates when I release the grip on my wand in shock.

‘Is that… normal?’

_ Yep.  What you felt is the legilimency probe forming in your gaze.  You may want to go at it a few more times before try doing anything with the probe.  You want to get used to the sensation of forming a probe before you try using it. _

‘Right.’

After several more goes, I wouldn’t say that I get  _ used _ to the sensation of forming a probe, but the unnervingness of doing so has lessened substantially.

‘So, now what do I do?’

_ Now, you need to force the probe to connect with someone.  I would suggest the clerk, as it should be pretty easy to meet her gaze.  Try not to do anything more complicated than connecting the probe for now.  I’ll give you further instruction after that. _

I cast the spell once more and stare at the clerk’s eyes, trying to force the probe to connect to her.  After trying for several seconds, I feel the probe “leave” and form a connection between us.

‘Got it.  What now?’

_ We’re going to start with the basics, so let’s start with surface probes.  Try and lightly brush against her mind using the connection. _

It takes me almost half an hour to do that, since not only do I have trouble feeling out the probe, but the clerk frequently looks away, which breaks the connection and requires me to remake it.  Eventually, though, I do figure out how to “move” the probe, using it to lightly brush the surface of her mind. I feel exhaustion, impatience, exasperation, and annoyance, yet each emotion feels distinctly foreign, as though I can tell that it’s not mine.  It’s wholly different from when Tamelyn’s emotions bleed over, as those are barely distinguishable from my own feelings.

‘That’s… weird.’

_ I suppose it would be to you.  You have to remember, I’m a natural legilimens, so all of this is second-nature to me. _

‘That must have been odd.’

_ It certainly didn’t help endear any of the other orphans to me, since I could easily feel the fear and scorn behind their words. _

I take a sip of my tea.  It’s far weaker than I prefer, like the richness of the tea is being drowned out by milk and honey.

‘So, should I just keep doing that for a while?’

_ Yes.  Try and do it with other people now.  Keep yourself limited to surface probes for now, though.  We’ll want to work you up to the complicated stuff. _   


I take another sip of the awful tea before meeting the gaze of someone on the other side of the shop.  I send out a probe, trying to connect it and brush against his thoughts before he looks away. I’m able to connect the probe quickly enough, but fail to probe his thoughts before he looks away and severs the connection.

‘This is hard.’

_ Just keep going at it.  Just because you’re not good at it now means you’ll simply have to work harder to become good at it.  Don’t be like the rest of the wizarding world that only does what they’re good at and ignores everything else.  You can be good at anything if you’re willing to try hard enough. Now try again. _

I meet the gaze of a woman waiting in line while talking on an extremely bulky cell phone.  The connection is formed much faster this time, and it doesn’t take me as long to push the probe against her thoughts.  Stress, joy, longing, and exhaustion all run through her mind. I suppose it’s a fitting melange of emotions for the pre-Christmas Time rush that plagues most of society.

‘I got it that time.’

_ Good.  Keep going.  Let’s see how much progress we can make with you. _

I keep at it for several hours, eventually getting results from over half of my probes, a vast improvement from my initial results where I was only getting successful results from around a fifth of them.

Of the minds I glimpse, everyone has at least two emotions from the set of stress, exhaustion, and unhappiness.  I’m quite glad that I don’t feel the full extent of those emotions, as I would likely fall into a spiralling depression if I was.  I keep practicing with the probes for a while longer after that, determined to see how much practice I can get in. As dinnertime starts to roll around, I realise that we should really be heading back to Hogwarts.

_ You have a point.  Still, you made good progress today.  Let’s go find an alley or something where we can apparate back to the tunnel before we’re missed.  Once you’re able to do surface scans successfully more than three-quarters of the time, we can move onto the more complicated stuff. _

Tamelyn takes control and leaves the shop, finding a small alley behind the shop where the dumpsters are located.

_ This’ll have to do. _

She scowls at the dumpsters, which positively reek, even in the cold winter air.

_ Filthy muggles… _

Another wholly unpleasant apparition lands us back in the tunnel connecting Hogwarts to Hogsmeade.  Tamelyn quickly cancels the transfiguration on my clothes, returning their appearance to that of my school robes, before she dons my invisibility cloak and hands control back to me.  I start walking back towards the school, thinking back over the results of my legilimency.

‘Almost all of those people were unhappy.’

_ Very few people are truly happy. _

‘Yeah, but most of them were  _ unhappy _ in some way or another.’

_ Of course they were.  They’re muggles. Muggles live very unhappy lives. _

‘Do you have anything to add  _ besides _ your usual anti-muggle bias?’

_ It’s not bias, Harry.  Remember that, since I have far more practice and intuition with legilimency, I can read more than just their emotions when I probe their minds.  Muggles are almost inherently unhappy. Think about your relatives — they have almost everything that they could possibly want, but would you say any of them are happy? _

‘…No.  Definitely not.’

_ There’s your answer, then. _

We fall back into silence for the rest of the walk.  I do my best to remain quiet as I slip out of the statue and make my way to dinner.  My eyes scan across the few people in the great hall as I enter, and I wonder what  _ they’re _ feeling at that moment.  I have to resist the urge to grab my wand and brush their minds for the answers.

_ Yeah, you might have trouble adjusting to the ability to use legilimency.  Just remember that it’s not a solution to all of your problems, as useful as it is.  Besides which, you wouldn’t want to risk using it on someone who has occlumency shields.  They would probably catch you, and that would raise far too many questions for your own good. _

I take a helping of food from one of the serving platters.  Despite the oddities of today, it was enjoyable. I hope the rest of the break remains just as relaxing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** This chapter took longer than I’d have liked. Between an illness, a health scare, writer’s block, and a relapse of my videogame addiction, I wound up hitting a lot of hurdles in getting this chapter completed.
> 
> You guys wanna know a secret? I completely forgot about the Shrieking Shack investigation plotline until I saw it when I was looking for info in a previous chapter. I suppose that’s what happens when I’m working on two separate stories and don’t have any of my plans written down.
> 
> I read one fic (I cannot remember which one) where Alice was a member of the Prince family, which is why Snape held a grudge against Neville just like he did against Harry. I was rather fond of that idea, so I borrowed it for this fic.
> 
> The snowball fight scene was pure fluff, and despite having a few moments and lines that I’m proud of, I’m not especially fond of how it turned out, mostly because it was written over the course of several weeks as I grappled with various issues. That said, I really like writing Katie and Alicia. Katie will probably become a minor character in this story, since I enjoyed working with her so much.
> 
> The twins don’t have the map and someone else does. I should hope that the answer is obvious based on this chapter and a brief mention in chapter 11.
> 
>  **E/N (Xgenje):** Being the last one to read this before its inevitable posting, I found a surprising amount of speed bumps. We got through them and cleaned this up a fair bit. I can only hope that Ten doesn’t fix her video game addiction. She helps me alot with challenges during the POE leagues.
> 
> I am really enjoying the interactions between Harry and Tammy. They are a cute couple. When Ten first told me about this idea I was all “Pssshh, a Harry/Moldywart story? Eww.” but I am actually starting to honestly ship them… Gods save me.
> 
>  **E/N (Foadar):** The chapter really needed the addition to the Lupin scene to feel complete. Before, it cut off rather rapidly, which Tendra has attested to writer’s block at the time. Snape being a first(?) cousin to Alice is an interesting proposition which I have not seen before, and it has been duly noted. (I might borrow the idea. You have been warned.)


	14. Holidays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Minor content warning: this chapter will contain allusions to and mentions of (prevented) sexual assault. It won’t be too extreme, but I wanted to issue a heads up regardless.

“Harry!  Harry! Wake up!”  Ron’s voice cuts through my sleep.

I nearly bolt upright in a panic before my brain catches up with me.  I’m not in danger. Ron is just being his usual overexcited self like he is every Christmas.  If I was in danger, he would sound more nervous as he tried to wake me up. Unless the perpetrator had placed him under the imperius.  But even then, why would they do that instead of just trying to take me out in my sleep? It wouldn’t make any sense.

_ Please stop thinking so hard, Harry.  You’re making it hard to sleep. _

‘I don’t think Ron will let us sleep.’

_ One of us will have to get up — I say it should be you.  I’ll make the noble sacrifice of sleeping now so I can take control later in the day when you start to crash. _

‘Oh no you don’t.  If I have to wake up, then so do you.’

_ Just ignore him and see if he’ll leave us alone. _

‘That won’t work.’

It does not work.  “Haaaarrry! Wake up!”  Ron says, shaking me this time.

“‘M tryna sleep, Ron…”  I mumble with my face buried in my pillow.

“C’mon, Harry!  We have presents to open!  Get out of bed!”

I groan and try to cover my ears with my pillow.

_ It’s too early to be waking up. _

‘Says the person who constantly pulls all-nighters.’

_ There’s a difference between pulling an all-nighter and waking up early.  Pulling an all-nighter is just staying up extremely late, which is the exact opposite of waking up early. _

I try in vain to ignore Ron's attempts to wake me for a while longer.  Eventually, Ron leaves the dorm, presumably in an attempt to find people who will be more receptive to his attempts at waking them.  I take advantage of the respite to get in as much rest as I can before he returns.

“C’mon, Harry!”  He exclaims as he re-enters the dorm.  “I woke you up twenty minutes ago and you’re still not out of bed!?”

_ I hate this.  I hate your life.  Even your maniac of a quidditch captain isn’t up this early.  Why do you put up with this? _

‘It’s only one day a year, thankfully.’

_ It’s torture.  No one deserves this. _

Ron has apparently had enough of my staying in bed, and tips my mattress over to send me rolling onto the floor.

“Fine!  I’m up!”  I gripe as I try and get my bearings.

Ron grins and leaves the room again.

_ Now that he’s gone, we could just get back in bed. _

‘And risk him doing something worse when he gets back?  No thanks.’

Tam slips into control of my body and calls out.  “Elf!”

A house elf pops into the dorm in front of us.  “Yessir? What can Nitwit get for you?

She blinks at the house elf’s name.  I would probably have done much the same if I was in control of my body.

_ It’s too early for this. _

“Coffee.”  She says plainly.  The house elf disappears and leaves a mug of coffee with some cubes of sugar and a small pitcher of cream sitting on my nightstand.  Tam ignores the fixings and starts drinking the coffee black. I mentally cringe at the taste.

‘You enjoy this!?’

_ Too tired to taste right now. _

As she finishes downing the mug of coffee, I slip back into control of my body and begin getting dressed.  I also brush my teeth and give my mouth an additional magical cleaning as I attempt to wipe the bitter and sour taste of black coffee from my mouth.

‘I am never drinking coffee again.  That was awful.’

_ Sure, you say that now, but come your O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. years, you’ll need all the help you can get.  I certainly wouldn’t have been able to manage if I hadn’t had coffee available. _

‘I should hope I’ll have more time available given that I won’t be spending all of my free moments trying to make myself immortal.’

_ Perhaps, but you’re also on the quidditch team, which is liable to be just as big a timesink, especially since you’re liable to end up as captain later on. _

‘I feel like there’s something wrong with the fact that immortality takes around the same time commitment as being on a sports team.’

_ Immortality isn’t actually that hard to pursue — it’s just that most people don’t think it’s worth the cost.  If I just wanted biological immortality and didn’t care about the associated costs, I could have become a vampire.  That said, vampirism only protects against death by aging and has far too many downsides for my taste. I wanted immortality that would let me survive the total destruction of my body, which is much harder to obtain.  If not for the fact that soul magic is extremely obscure and taboo, horcruxes moreso than anything else in the field, then I could have spent a lot less time on the process. _

My mouth is as clean as I’m going to get it for now, so I head downstairs, trying to ignore the cloying bitter taste that I swear I can still feel lingering on my tongue.

‘As far as pick-me-ups go, I think I’ll stick with pepper-up potion.  It’s less disgusting.’

_ Speak for yourself.  I’d rather drink coffee than chug several tablespoons of something that tastes like hot sauce.  Why  _ **_anyone_ ** _ drinks pepper-up for nonmedical reasons is beyond me. _

‘You just have low spice tolerance.’

_ I grew up in an impoverished orphanage in the early nineteen-hundreds.  The Great Depression started when I was two years old. Spicy food wasn’t exactly something I had the time or opportunity to get used to. _

‘I suppose that’s fair.  Dudley loved to buy spicy food in spite of his awful spice tolerance, so it was easy for me to eat it without anyone noticing that it was missing.’

_ Starvation is always a powerful motivator, I suppose. _

“C’mon Harry!”  Ron shouts as I enter the common room.  “Presents!”

_ His single-mindedness toes the line between endearing and obnoxious, doesn’t it? _

‘I suppose so.’

I move onto one of the sofas as Ron starts to hand out packages to everyone present.  No one but him seems to be fully awake — even the twins seem a little bleary-eyed, though they still seem to be faring better than most of us.  Hermione looks to be dozing off in her chair now that Ron’s distracted.

_ I hate mornings. _

‘I’ve gathered as much.’

It takes everyone a while to work our way through our presents, given that everyone except Ron is at least half asleep.  Mrs. Weasley gave me the traditional Weasley family jumper, Hermione got me a Rune Dictionary to help facilitate my self-study of the subject, Ron got me another chess set that I’m sure he’ll have halfway demolished in less than a month, Fred and George got me an assortment of items that I’m certain are not allowed in the school, and the rest of the players on the quidditch team got me an assortment of candy.

I’m working my way through a few chocolate frogs when Ron draws my attention.

“Hey, Harry.  You’ve got another package here.  There’s no sender, though.”

I raise an eyebrow.  Did Dumbledore remember that he had to return yet another family heirloom?  He returned my invisibility cloak in an unmarked Christmas present, after all.

_ I doubt it.  Dumbledore’s not likely to try the same method twice.  He’s surprisingly adaptive, especially given his old age. _

‘So who do you think it’s from, then?’

_ It could be a trap.  Let me check it real quick… _

Tam shifts into control of my body and starts casting various detection charms at the long package, much to Ron’s confusion.  Hermione, Fred, and Geroge look various levels of intrigued and impressed.

_ Well, it came up negative for curses, poisons, and several other varieties of hostile magic.  If the package is rigged, then it’s with some sort of prank spell that doesn’t fall under any of those categories. _

“What was that for?”  Ron asks, brow furrowed in confusion.

I shrug as I slip back into control of my body.  “Nothing wrong with being careful. You never know who it might be from.”

Ron doesn’t seem to understand, but drops the issue anyways.  Upon seeing him do so, I turn back to the package and begin opening it.  Once I peel back the paper and pull away the box, I freeze in shock.

“Harry, is that a…?”

“It’s a Firebolt.”  I say, still in shock.  “It’s an honest to God Firebolt.  Who the hell got me a Firebolt? These things are insanely expensive.”

_ Sorry, what’s the big deal about this broom? _

‘Weren’t you paying attention when Ron and I were browsing Quality Quidditch Supplies this summer?”

_ Of course not.  I don’t have to pretend to be interested in quidditch anymore, so I just ignored you until you left the store. _

‘It’s a brand-new professional-level broom.  It’s supposed to be faster and handle better than any other broom on the market.  They only had a prototype available at the store, and I couldn’t have afforded it even if I drained my vault.’

_ Great, so what you’re telling me is that you’ll be able to pull even  _ **_more_ ** _ reckless stunts when you fly? _

‘I’m more hung up on the price tag associated with this gift.’

“Was there a note or something with it?”  Hermione asks. “I mean, you could afford to buy a house with how much those things cost.  A muggle house, at least. I don’t know how much a wizarding house costs…”

I root through the box and find a simple parchment note that fell into a corner.

**Sorry about your last broom.  Try not to break this one.**

“I should hope you won’t break this one!”  Ron says as he reads the note. “I mean, it’s a  _ Firebolt! _   A Firebolt!”

_ It’s not Dumbledore’s handwriting. _

‘I know.  I suppose that means it’s definitely not from him.’

_ This is suspicious.  I say you have someone check over the broom. _

‘You’re just saying that because you don’t like me flying.’

_ I won’t deny that the prospect of you not flying for a while longer is a motivating factor. _

I look up to try and ask Hermione her opinion, though she seems to have vanished.  She must have gone to the loo or something. I decide to put the issue of the Firebolt out of my mind until I’ve had some time to think it over and get a second opinion.  In the meantime, I begin reviewing the Rune Dictionary that Hermione got me.

‘I really wish I didn’t let you talk me into taking Divination instead of Runes.’

_ Well, I certainly find myself entertained by the class.  Besides, it’s too late for you to do anything about your course selection now. _

‘It’s not too late for me to complain to you about it, though.  I don’t want to think about all of the cramming I’ll have to do when the O.W.L. comes around, given that Trelawney is useless as a teacher.’

I settle back into the Rune Dictionary, trying to memorise the meaning of each rune.  I make some decent progress before Hermione comes back into the common room, with McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick in tow.  As soon as Hermione sees that the common room is not empty, she hides behind McGonagall.

“I… I thought you all would be at breakfast.”  She says nervously.

“I think we’ve all had enough candy that we’re fine with putting off a proper breakfast for a while longer.  What brings the teachers here?” I ask.

Hermione looks nervous and turns to McGonagall, who answers my question.  “Miss Granger came to me and informed me that you received a very expensive anonymous gift and was concerned that it might be cursed.”

_ Looks like I get my wish after all. _

‘Yeah, yeah.’

“Well, I cast some detection spells on it, so I can assure you that it’s not cursed.”  I reply coolly.

At McGonagall’s nod, Snape moves over and takes the Firebolt.  “Flitwick, Babbling, and I will be checking this over to ensure that your amateurish attempts at curse detection didn’t miss something.  You can have this back in a few weeks.” He sneers.

I roll my eyes.  “Is this really necessary?  There was a distinct lack of dark magic present in the broom.  While I won’t deny that I received it under suspicious circumstances, a few weeks worth of examination seems excessive.”

Snape looks like he’s about to tell me off when Flitwick steps in to defuse the situation.  “I’ll take this question, if you don’t mind, Severus? You can take the broom to my office and we can take a thorough look at it once I’ve consulted with Bathsheda at breakfast.”

Snape sneers again and leaves the room, McGonagall leaving shortly thereafter.  Flitwick turns back to us as they leave.

“Well, why don’t we all head down to the Great Hall, then?  I can answer Mister Potter’s question on the way down.”

Everyone starts to gather their things so they can get dressed, which, for most of us, just involves throwing on a robe over our sleepwear.  Once we start walking down to the Great Hall, I ask Flitwick my first question.

“So, why is it going to take several weeks to look over the broom?  It took me less than a minute to check for potions and hostile magicks.”

“Well, the amount of time it will take is mostly because it’s an enchanted object.  If it was something mundane, then checking it over would simply be a matter of looking for any magical presence, which would be distinctly out of place in a non-magical object.  The fact that it’s enchanted is also why examining it for curses is insufficient. Curses are only readily detectable because they have a distinct magical signature to them. The Firebolt’s natural enchantments could be tampered with in such a way that would evade curse detection while still being able to cause harm.  In fact, since it’s a device that is made to be flown around at high speeds, even something as simple as slightly damaging one of the internal runic arrays could be life-threatening if it were to give out at a bad time.”

“So you’re going to have to check all of the enchantments and runic arrays to ensure that they’re untampered with?”   


“That’s correct.  The runic arrays will be the easiest part to check, though the enchantments will take a good deal longer.  I assure you that we’ll do our best to get it done quickly and with as little damage to the broom as possible.  I must admit that I’m a bit excited at the prospect. It’s so rare that I have a chance to analyse an enchanted object.”

“I’m… glad to have been of service professor.”  I say, unsure of how I’m supposed to reply to that comment.

Once we settle down at the sole table in the Great Hall, I catch Ron shooting glares at Hermione, who winces each time she catches him doing so.

“What’s going on between you two?”  I ask. “Did Crookshanks try and eat Scabbers again?”

“No!”  Ron says venomously.  “Though he probably would have, given the chance…  But no! She went and told a teacher and got your broom confiscated!  Who does something like that!?”

I shrug.  “The broom  _ did _ arrive in suspicious circumstances, you know.”

“Exactly!”  Hermione jumps in.  “And Sirius Black is on the loose!  He probably sent it to you to try and get you killed!”

_ He didn’t need to curse the broom to try and get you killed with it.  He would have just had to wait until you did one of your dives. _

‘Shut up.’

“Sirius Black is on the run, Hermione!  How would he have bought a Firebolt, anyways?  It’s not like he could just waltz into Quality Quidditch Supplies and order one from the clerk!”  Ron retorts.

“He was able to escape from Azkaban, Ron!   _ No one _ has been able to do that before!  He was able to get into Hogwarts, too!  He could have come up with a way to get one that doesn’t involve going to a shop!”

“And how would he gave got the money, then!?  Sure, the Black family is richer than God and all, but it’s not like he could have just waltzed into Gringotts with a price on his head!”

“That’s enough!”  I yell, cutting off the argument before it can progress further.  I turn to Ron. “You have to admit the package arrived in suspicious circumstances.  It’s probably for the best that the teachers look it over, just to be sure. I’ll be fine for a few more weeks without a broom.”  I turn to Hermione. “And you… yes, the package was suspicious, but seriously, you think Sirius Black was able to get it to me? Ron’s right — there’s no way he could have gotten the money out of Gringotts with the price he has one he head.  Not to mention that I really don’t like how you went behind my back to get the teachers. I was actually about to ask your opinion on what I should do about the broom when I noticed that you had suddenly vanished from the common room. If you had just waited a little while longer, then I’m sure that you could have convinced me to get it checked out.”

“I kind of expected you and Ron to rush down to try it out as soon as possible.  I went to McGonagall right away in the hopes that she would be able to get it while you went down to breakfast.”  Hermione defends halfheartedly

I hold back a sigh.  “Right, well obviously that isn’t what happened.  Did you think we were going to head straight to the pitch as soon as we ate?”

She nods.  “You  _ do _ have a tendency to rush into situations…”

“And that tendency resulted in me getting my arse handed to me down in the Chamber of Secrets.”  And isn’t  _ that _ true.  “I rushed in without a plan and the heir got away because I didn’t know what I was getting into.  I’d like to think I can learn from my mistakes.”

“Right.  Sorry, Harry.”

“You’re just forgiving her!?”  Ron asks, shocked at the turn of events.

“It  _ was _ suspicious, Ron.  Worst case scenario, the Firebolt was dangerous and we saved ourselves a lot of trouble.  Best case scenario, it comes up clean and I get a new Firebolt. I’m sure I can go a few more weeks without flying.”

_ Damn right you can. _

‘I am a perfectly capable flier, Tamelyn.’

_ If by perfectly capable, you mean completely insane, then yes, you are. _

‘You should be glad I have a professional broom now.  It’ll be a much smoother experience, and hopefully a safer one, too.”

_ Only you could try and assure me that we’re safe when careening towards the ground. _

‘So long as I’m in control, we are.’

I look around the room at the odd assortment of students and faculty gathered around the Great Hall.  Flitwick is excitedly talking to Babbling, presumably excited about the prospect of disassembling my new broom.  Several upper year students are studying, most likely for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Fred and George are teasing Percy.  Ginny looks half asleep, though whether that’s from Ron’s early wake up time or lingering effects of soul damage, I couldn’t say.  I don’t think I’ve seen Ginny looking fully alert since the morning I first arrived at the Burrow, over a year ago.

“How’s Ginny been doing?”  I ask as casually as I can manage.

“She’s doing alright.”  Ron says. “She hasn’t been sleeping as well since the Chamber incident, but she says she’s been feeling better.”

I glance back at Ginny, and when she catches my gaze, she perks up and smiles at me, her face shifting into an expression of happiness.

_ She’s faking it. _

‘I can tell.’

_ I suppose you  _ **_would_ ** _ be good at reading faces with relatives like yours. _

‘Don’t remind me.’

The moment Ginny thinks I’m looking away, her face loses the smile and she goes back to looking dead inside.

‘I’m tempted to try legilimency on her.’

_ Feel free to try.  Just remember not to try anything more complicated than a surface scan yet.  I would really rather not have to pull your mind back out of hers. _

I grip my wand in my pocket and quietly mutter the incantation when I next meet her gaze.  I feel the probe form and connect our minds, though when I try and graze her emotions, the results are unnerving.

I don’t feel anything.

I’m half tempted to try and dig deeper, but I would really rather not risk losing myself in her mind, especially with that… blank emotional state she has.  I shiver as I look away, severing the probe.

‘What does soul damage do?’

_ That depends.  It tends to limit one’s capacity to channel magic, though rarely to a prohibitive extent.  It also tends to heavily affect one’s emotional state. Why? _

‘I couldn’t feel any emotions in her head.’

_ Really?  You probably just did the probe wrong.  Or she has some rudimentary experience in occluding her emotions.  Let me try. _

‘Help yourself.’

I pass control of my body over to her.  She catches Ginny’s gaze again and stares at her for a few seconds, not bothering with my wand during the process.  Once she’s done, she looks away and hands control back to me.

‘Well?’

_ …You weren’t wrong.  She’s not feeling anything, at least not anything substantial.  She’s not occluding herself, either. I was half-tempted to try and dig deeper, but if the rest of her mind is like that, then I’m not convinced that my attempts would go undetected.  I can’t really say exactly  _ **_why_ ** _ she’s like that, though.  Soul damage isn’t extensively studied and is known for having unpredictable effects — this might just be how she reacts to soul damage.  If I were to take a guess, though, I’d wager it has to do with sustaining soul damage while in a depressive state. She was feeling very morose and alone when I brought her down to the Chamber, and the emotions one feels when sustaining soul damage have a heavy effect on how the damage plays out. _

‘It’s unnerving.  Isn’t there something we could do to help her?’

_ No.  The best thing we can do for her is to give her a chance to heal.  Soul damage heals itself eventually. _

‘How long will that take?’

_ A few years, probably.  I can’t say for certain. _

‘Great.’

 

* * *

 

New Year’s Eve is always a comparatively subdued affair at Hogwarts, especially given the boisterous celebrations of the other holidays.  Between the small number of students that stay over the break and the fact that the actual event always occurs after curfew, New Year’s celebrations are limited to small, in-house affairs.  Of course, Gryffindor has the Weasley twins available to smuggle in goods, so we probably have the most active parties of them all.

I expect to wake up feeling excited.  Instead, I feel almost morose about the affair.  Once I finish brushing the cobwebs out of my brain, though, I’m able to identify that the feelings aren’t mine.

‘Something wrong, Tam?’

_ Ah, I see you’re awake.  No, nothing’s really wrong.  I just prefer to spend my birthdays in solitude, a luxury I doubt I will be able to have in your body. _

‘I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but you have issues.  Seriously, what’s wrong with spending some time with people on your birthday?’

_ I prefer being alone. _

‘Tam, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but neither of us have been “alone” for over six months.  It’s not like we’re able to leave each other alone while sharing my body.’

_ That doesn’t count. _

‘And why, pray tell, is that?’

_ Because you’re not exhausting to be around.  I don’t feel myself gradually losing patience with you as we interact. _

‘Really?  I wouldn’t have guessed that based on our past interactions.’

_ Oh, shut up.  I was paying you a compliment. _

‘Well… thanks, I guess.’

_ …You’re welcome. _

‘So, since moping around for most of the day is out of the question, is there anything  _ else _ you’d like to do?’

_ Not really.  I wouldn’t object to leaving the grounds to give you another legilimency lesson, if you’re feeling up for it. _

‘Sure.  We just have to make sure we’re back by eight so no one notices our absence.’

_ Curfew isn’t until ten. _

‘Yeah, but the New Year’s Eve party starts before curfew.’

_ You party for four hours? _

‘More than that, usually.  It’s not like we go to bed immediately once midnight comes around.’

_ I have never been happier that I’m not a Gryffindor. _

‘Well, you’re still stuck being around us as long as we share a body.’

_ Don’t remind me. _

I grab my winter cloak and my invisibility cloak so I can head for the secret passage as soon as I eat breakfast.

 

* * *

 

I shiver into the jacket I transfigured from my cloak.  London is busy today, busy even by the standards of Fridays.  Countless people wander the streets, either preparing for some last-minute travel or to pick up items for their own gatherings.

As such, no one notices me occasionally reaching into my jacket so I can probe their minds.

I twist my wand inside my jacket, catching someone’s eyes as we pass each other on the street.  He was stressed and excited. Lots of people are feeling that way, actually. The fact that most people seem to be feeling the same way is making the exercise kind of boring.  I pull out from his mind and cast a warming charm on myself before withdrawing my hand from my jacket.

‘Are you sure we couldn’t have done this in an indoor location?’

_ You need practice.  A key part of being a skilled legilimens is being able to use legilimency probes while doing something else.  Being able to multitask while doing legilimency makes it far less likely for you to be caught, since no one will see it coming.  Walking around the streets is a good starting point for now. _

‘It’s so cold out, though…’

_ Well, we needed to fit in, and the temperature charms built into the Hogwarts robes and cloak don’t work when you transfigure them. _

A harsh gust of wind blows through the street, kicking up a small cloud of snow from the recently-ploughed snowbanks.  It also cuts through most of my warming charm. I refresh the charm, pumping additional power into it as I do so.

I brush against another person’s mind.  She’s stressed, excited and worried. It’s about what I expected.

_ You’ve gotten good enough at this that I think you can start on the next step: surface thought reading.  It lets you see the actual thoughts a person is having at that moment, rather than just their emotions. It’s easier for you to be detected when doing this, as it involves dipping into the outer edges of their mind, rather than just brushing against the surface.  It’s a lot like what you’ve been doing so far, though you’ll actually have to dive in. Just be careful not to dive too deep. I’d rather not have to rescue you from some hapless muggle’s mind. _

I roll my eyes.

‘God forbid.’

Pushing my way into someone’s surface thoughts takes much more energy than just brushing their thoughts, though it also requires less precision.  Each mind has a different “viscosity” to it when I try and push past the surface. Some reject my intrusions, requiring additional force to get to their thoughts, while other minds suck me in the moment I dip past their boundary.  Every mind requires a different approach, and I have no way of knowing which one to use until I’ve already pushed past the surface layer. A few times, I feel myself pushed out of some minds by the natural resistance of their thoughts, and other times I barely manage to stop myself from being pulled too deep.

‘Why do some minds have so much resistance when I try and read them?’

_ It’s based on the level of focus your target has.  It’s harder to pierce the thoughts of someone who’s focused on a single thought that someone who’s in a transient state between thoughts or not focused on any one thing.  The subconscious is able to identify your probe as foreign and equates it to a distraction. A mind prone to distractions doesn’t resist your probe. One that’s receptive to ideas is even able to draw your probe in. _

‘How is it that muggles’ minds are able to resist probes at all?  I mean, they don’t have magic…’

_ The real answer is extremely complicated, but to spare you the details, the mind arts are not an  _ **_exact_ ** _ representation of how the mind works.  After all, everyone has their own independent neurology which is what  _ **_really_ ** _ constitutes their thoughts and memories.  The Mind Arts are… an allegory, for lack of a better term.  When you perform Mind Arts, you’re using magic to translate someone’s thought patterns into a comprehensible form that’s then reflected in the soul. _

‘Wait, the mind arts are soul magic?’

_ In a sense, yes, though the similarities begin and end with the fact that they both involve the soul.  I don’t feel like giving you a run-down on the nuances of magic categorisation right now. Anyways, the reason that muggles are able to put up a basic resistance to legilimency is because they have souls and are afforded a base level of protection from it.  It can’t be magically enhanced the way occlumency lets us magicals do, but every living thing with a brain has at least a modicum of mental defence by sheer virtue of having a soul. Do you follow? _

‘…I think so?’

_ Close enough.  Just keep practising for now.  We can head back to Hogwarts after you’ve gotten in about an hour of practice. _

I continue to walk down the streets of London, peering into the minds of the passersby as I do so.  A few people still have Christmas songs stuck in their heads, even a week after the holiday in question.  An obnoxious number of people have pop songs from the radio stuck in their heads. I clamp down on my occlumency any time that happens, lest I get the song stuck in  _ my _ head, too.

As I get a feel for other people’s thoughts, I notice that Tam’s explanation of thoughts holds true.  Some people’s minds are flitting from one subject to another, almost sucking me in as I try and follow along with their trains of thought.  The people who are more focused subconsciously try and push me out as I try and worm my way into their minds. I try to read people’s faces and get a feel for their minds before pushing my way so I know what to expect.

Most people are thinking about their day, whether it’s what has already happened to them or what they still need to do.  A decent number are thinking about how they should have won arguments they had with coworkers or random strangers.

_ How are you doing? _

‘Decently, I think.  I’m starting to get the hang of this.’

_ Good.  Mind if I tag along on some of your probes?  Watching you walk down the street is rather boring, and I’d like to get a feel for what’s going on in the muggle world in the half-century I was in a book. _

‘You know, you could just read the news like a normal person.’

_ It’s delightfully naïve of you to think that the news reports what’s actually happening in the world.  Trust me, you’ll get a better feel for what’s going on by looking inside of people’s heads. _

‘Isn’t that a violation of privacy?’

_ Yes.  It didn’t stop you from reading minds to learn legilimency, though, did it? _

‘…Fine.   _ Can _ you even tag along on my legilimency probes, though?’

_ Only one way to find out.  Read some minds, Harry. _

I probe the mind of the nearest pedestrian.  She has a pop song stuck in her head. I pull out pretty quickly after that.  Tam makes her thoughts known pretty quickly after that.

_ Well, the good news is that I can tag along on your probes.  The bad news is that I had to be subjected to that abomination that the muggle wireless tries to pass off as “music”. _

‘Yeah, that’s been an annoyingly common result so far.  Still feel like tagging along?’

_ So long as they aren’t  _ **_all_ ** _ like that, then I stand by what I said.  It’s the best way to learn what’s going on in the world. _

‘If you insist.’

_ I do. _

I probe a few more people before Tam complains again.

_ I can’t believe that the muggle world has gone even  _ **_further_ ** _ downhill.  At least when I was a child, the music was passable. _

‘While I don’t care for it, I think you’re being melodramatic.’

_ I am  _ **_not_ ** _ being melodramatic! _

I roll my eyes.

‘Sure you’re not.’

The people that  _ don’t _ have pop songs stuck in their heads are mostly focused on their New Year’s Eve celebrations, though a few are focused on other plans unrelated to the holiday.  One person, though…

I blink and probe his mind again.

_ Oh hell no. _

Tamelyn forces her way into control of my body and turns around so she can follow him.

‘Tam, please don’t do anything rash.’

_ Trust me, this is for the best. _

‘Look, yes, he’s been stalking that girl, and yes, it’s creepy, but he hasn’t hurt anyone yet!  Just leave him be and we can head back to Hogwarts!’

_ You said it yourself.  He hasn’t hurt anyone  _ **_yet_ ** _.  I refuse to give him the opportunity. _

‘How do you even plan on doing anything?  We’re in the middle of London, and I doubt he’ll conveniently move to a location with no witnesses so you can do magic unaccosted.’

_ You let me worry about that. _

She pulls my arm into the sleeve of my jacket so she can wield my wand without it being seen.

“ _ Confundo. _ ”

The stalker’s eyes were still locked on the girl further down the street, so he didn’t notice anything was amiss.  The confundus charm takes effect and his course diverts into an abandoned alley. It’s only once the charm wears off that he seems to notice something’s wrong, by which time Tamelyn has blocked off the entrance to the alley with a notice-me-not charm.  It doesn’t take him long to realise that he’s not alone.

“What the fuck are you doing here, kid?”  He says brusquely. “Get lost.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”  Tamelyn replies coolly. “I don’t take kindly to stalkers.”

He seems stunned for a moment before deflecting that accusation.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“So you weren’t stalking her, then?  The blonde in the white jacket? You were following her for several streets, keeping a decent distance between you the whole time…”

A brief expression of anger twitches across his face.  “Get out of here kid. I don’t want to hurt you or anything.”  He says in a tone that implies he really doesn’t care if he hurts me.

Tamelyn just laughs.  “Oh, you misunderstand.  Only one of us will be leaving here, and it won’t be you.”

“What are you…?”

_ Brace yourself.  You might find this uncomfortable. _

‘Wait, what?’

Tam has my wand trained on him before I’m fully aware of what she’s about to do.  “ _ Avada Kedavra. _ ”

Bright, sickly green light illuminates the alley for a brief moment before snuffing out as it hits its target.  Powerful waves of euphoria and revulsion flow through my body as the man keels over.

‘What the hell!?’

_ I said you would find it unpleasant.  Now come on, we should get out of here before we attract any undue attention.  It wouldn’t do for us to be caught at the scene of a murder, after all. _

Tamelyn apparates us back to the Hogsmeade tunnel before I can protest.  The sudden apparition combined with the lingering revulsion from casting the killing curse proves too much for me.  I force myself back into control of my body and empty the contents of my stomach on the tunnel floor. After another moment of dry heaving, I pull myself together and silently  _ Scourgify _ my mouth and the ground.  I still have to use this tunnel, and I’d rather it not reek of sick the next time I come through.  I take another moment to gather my thoughts before I confront Tamelyn.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’

_ In general?  Many things. _

‘Don’t get cheeky with me.  You just murdered someone!’

_ It wouldn’t be the first time.  Why do you care now? _

‘Because you did it in front of me!?’

_ I killed your aunt in front of you, too, yet you only gave a token protest about that. _

‘…That was different.’

_ Different how?  The only difference between them is that I used the killing curse this time. _

‘It’s… I don’t know…!’

_ Well, the only other thing I can think of is that you thought your aunt deserved it.  You remembered every time she tormented you and realised that she  _ **_deserved_ ** _ to die. _

‘Shut up.’

_ You wanted her dead just as much as I did.  You simply weren’t willing to dirty your hands by performing the act yourself. _

‘Shut up!’

_ Don’t lie to yourself, Harry.  It doesn’t become you. You were glad to see her die. _

‘Yes!  Yes, fine, I hated her beyond belief, and while I was shocked at your willingness to kill her, I was not sad to see her die!  Are you happy!?’

_ …So if you didn’t mind when I killed your aunt, why do you care that I killed that creep? _

‘Because being a creep is not a murder-worthy offence!’

_ Oh, please.  You don’t honestly think he would have been content to just watch her, did you?  Someday, he would have wanted more and would have taken it without any care about who he hurt in the process. _

‘I suppose you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’

I regret thinking it as soon as I finish forming the thought, but the calm rage that I feel ebbing into my consciousness pushes that regret to the side.

_ …No.  No, you do  _ **_not_ ** _ get to accuse me of that!  I am a terrible person in many ways, but there are some lines that even I refuse to cross!  There are some crimes that even I can’t abide! You do  _ **_not_ ** _ get to sit on your throne of righteousness and accuse me of whatever crosses your mind!  I will gladly own up to the terrible things I have done and will do, but  _ **_I have been accused of things I didn’t do too many times already!_ **

‘I-’

_ Let’s see how you like it. _

Tamelyn drops her barriers and sucks me into her memory before I have a chance to prepare myself.

 

* * *

 

_ I check my bag for the fourth time to make sure the book I got is still there.  It was hard earning enough money to buy it, but the prospect of being able to get some practical magic work in over the break is too tempting.  Occlumency may be limited in scope, but I’m not about to be picky about what magic I can and can’t perform if it means I get to do more than sit in my room and read books about theory that I can’t practice. _

_ I pass under another streetlight, the high-pitched hum of the bulb buzzing uncomfortably in my ear.  It makes me miss the magical fires that burn in the torches of Hogwarts. They feel so much more natural than the obnoxious electric lights that commandeer the muggle world. _

_ I stare up at the night sky, feeling the same dismay I’ve felt every night since I was forced to return back to muggle London.  The sky looks so… bland here. All of the electric lights drown out the stars. _

_ I shake my head and continue walking.  It’s only eight more weeks until I can go back.  Going back to Diagon Alley today helped to reassure me that it wasn’t all a dream and that there really is a wondrous world away from the filthy muggle cities. _

_ Not long after I turn off of Charing Cross Road, I get a vague sense of a presence behind me.  I look over my shoulder and see a man following me a street back. I’ve seen him around a few times recently as I go to and from the small jobs I’ve taken on around town lately, though this is the first time I’ve been out after dark.  I scowl over my shoulder and start walking faster. It’s fairly warm out for London weather, but the temperature is already starting to drop, and I’d rather not still be out when it gets too cold. _

_ I do my best to put the man following behind me out of my mind. _

_ I regret doing that as soon as I feel someone grab me from behind, covering my mouth so I can’t scream out.  I thrash against his grip, doing my best to hit him in his crotch, an area I’ve learned most boys find very sensitive.  Unfortunately, my haphazard flailing fails to get me any results. _

_ I feel myself being dragged into a side alley away from the lit streets and feel panic rising inside me.  No, this isn’t supposed to happen! I have magic! A muggle shouldn’t be any threat to me at all! _

_ I can’t use my wand outside of school, but I never got in trouble for using magic  _ **_without_ ** _ a wand before I started Hogwarts.  I pull on every ounce of focus I can muster and force as much magic out of my body as I can manage.  The resulting shockwave pushes me out of his grasp, though it also sends me falling to the ground. I try to push myself up, though the bruises the impact of falling caused to my already sore legs are making it hard.  I at least manage to turn around and get a look at my attacker, revealing that he is indeed the same man who’s been following me around lately. _

_ Much to my dismay, he’s not as heavily affected by the shockwave as I was, and he looks very angry. _

_ In a fit of panic, I glare at him and do the only thing I can think of. _

_ I dive into his mind. _

_ I don’t have a plan when I dive into his mind.  The first memory I find is him following me a week ago when I got back from Hogwarts.  I grab that memory by its fabric and tear it apart, the shreds disappearing into the depths of his mind.  The next memory is him following me yesterday. I grab that one and shred it too. I shred the memory of what he planned to do to me as soon as it comes up.  I feel my physical body shudder as the tatters of that memory fade. I keep pushing my way through his memories, tearing my way through his mind like a knife through a wet paper bag.  I withdraw from his mind when no new memory comes up to replace the one I just destroyed. My awareness snaps back to my own body, a piercing pain flowing through my head as I do so. _

_ I slowly push myself upwards, doing my best to ignore the powerful aches spreading throughout my body.  I try to call on my magic to heal my bruises the same way I’ve done in the past, though I don’t get anything more than an ache deep inside my being when I try and do so. _

_ Is it possible to run out of magic?  When I used magic to free myself from his grip, I didn’t really have any goal beyond “use as much magic as possible”, and I doubt that tearing through that…  _ **_muggle’s_ ** _ mind was an efficient process.  Did I manage to use up all the magic I had available?  I make a note to look that up the next time I go to Diagon Alley. _

_ I stare down at the unresponsive body of my would-be attacker.  He’s breathing, and his eyes are moving, though he doesn’t seem to be aware of what’s happening around him.  I feel my lip curl in disgust at the pitiful sight. Serves him right. _

_ I gather my things and continue walking back to the orphanage.  My hands keep shaking despite my best attempts to steady them. It wasn’t that much further to the orphanage, but the walk felt like it took forever.  I try and ignore the awful cloying feeling. I’m still in public and can’t afford to show weakness. _

_ “Tamelyn!”  A voice interrupts me as I walk into the foyer.  “What in the blazes were you doing out this late!” _

_ “Acquiring additional study materials for my schooling.”  I reply without meeting her gaze. _

_ “It’s not safe for young girls to be out on their own this late, Tamelyn.  I expect better judgement from you in the future.” _

_ “I can take care of myself…”  I mutter as I head for my room.  I  _ **_can_ ** _ take care of myself.  I just proved I could. _

_ I close the door to my room and put the occlumency book under the loose board in the bottom of my wardrobe where I  _ **_used_ ** _ to keep all of the trinkets I stole.  Damn Dumbledore. The other orphans have already been giving me more trouble than they have in the past. _

_ With the book safely stored and the remainder of my things stored away for later, I collapse into bed and pull myself under the covers.  Only now that I am safe inside my own room do I allow the panic to sink in. _

_ My breathing quickly becomes more rapid.  Someone tried to… oh gods, I don’t even want to think about what he wanted to do to me.  And then I… What did I do to him? I basically killed him, didn’t I? Sure, he’s still  _ **_breathing_ ** _ and all that, but I basically destroyed everything that made him who he is.  It doesn’t matter if his body’s still alive — he’s dead and I killed him. _

_ I take deep breaths and try to calm myself.  He didn’t matter. He was just a muggle, and a terrible one at that.  The world won’t miss someone like him. _

_ Focusing on that for a while calms me to the point where I feel calm enough to move past it.  Now there’s only one thing left bothering me — the ease with which I tore his mind apart. Sure, he was just a muggle with no mental defences to speak of, but I’m only twelve and I destroyed the entire essence of his being. _

_ What would happen if an older and more experienced wizard tried to do something like that to me? _

_ My eyes veer back towards my wardrobe.  Occlumency is supposed to help one guard their mind, in addition to the other benefits it offers, but… well, nothing’s perfect. _

_ I wonder if it’s possible to use magic to make copies of memories to store for later?  That could be worth looking into. _

_ With that thought going through my head, I finally drift off to sleep, hoping in vain that I won’t have nightmares. _

 

* * *

 

I come back to awareness in my own body to find it walking down the secret passage outside of my volition.

‘Um…’

_ Not now.  I’m not in the mood. _

‘Sorry.’

I must have been in that memory for around ten minutes, as it doesn’t take long for us to reach the end of the passage.  Tamelyn pulls us out and begins walking towards the seventh floor. I watch silently as she opens the Room of Requirement, revealing a large array of dummies and obstacles.  She pulls out my wand and gets to work demolishing everything in the room, failing to slow down at any point. After half a minute, the dummies seem to activate, moving around the room and firing back at her.  Much to my surprise, she doesn’t shield any of the incoming spells, instead choosing to rely on dodging. This goes on for around ten minutes as she fires all manner of explosive curses at the dummies and the cover they hide behind.  Some curses are ones I’m familiar with, like the reductor, while others I’ve never heard of before. Some are obviously dark curses, if the periodic euphoric rushes I feel are any indicator. Eventually, only one dummy is left standing, and only then does she change her pattern.

“ _ Avada Kedavra! _ ”  She snarls, the bright, sickly light colliding with the dummy.  Despite the fact that the dummy isn’t alive, the curse shatters it to splinters, destroying it far more thoroughly than the actual demolition curses she was flinging around moments ago.  I try and hold my mind stable against the revulsion I feel from my body casting that curse, even as it fights against the extreme euphoria of using such dark magic. Tamelyn seems to have had enough after that and she sits down, the room summoning a chair below us as she does so.

_ Now we can talk.  I assume you have questions. _

‘To start with, why does the killing curse feel that awful?’

She seems surprised that that was my first question, though her surprise doesn’t last long.

_ It’s… an unnatural spell.  On an instinctive level, we recognise it as such and feel a level of disgust from casting it.  That disgust can be overcome, as despite the high cost of the spell, it’s very thorough at what it does. _

‘How is it “unnatural”?’

_ It’s… ugh, hang on.  I’m going to meditate so we can have this conversation face-to-face. _

Sensing her intention, the rubble fades from the room and the lighting dims.  After far longer than I’ve become used to, we’re both pulled into my mindspace.  I collapse on the floor when I first arrive, as per usual. Tamelyn is standing, though she looks far more dishevelled than usual.  Her robes are wrinkled and skewed and several strands of her hair are out of place, a harsh contrast with the usual immaculate appearance she maintains in our mind.  I try to suppress the blush I feel rising in my cheeks as I take in her appearance, though I have no way of knowing if I’m succeeding. If I’m not, then Tamelyn gives no indication, and simply begins her explanation.

“The killing curse, much like the Mind Arts, is based in soul magic.  There are a lot of principles of soul magic, but a very important one is that the soul is immutable to external forces.  So, it’s possible to split one’s own soul, but not to split the soul of another.”

I raise an eyebrow.  “Then how were you able to damage Ginny’s soul at the end of last year?”

“I was confused about that for a while, too.”  She says exasperatedly. “I did find the answer eventually.  Souls that are in direct contact, through means such as through possession, are no longer considered an ‘external force’, and therefore able to affect the other soul.   That’s why I was able to subsume her soul in the first place.”

“Hold on.”  I say, interrupting her.  “You were able to — what was the word you used, subsume? — subsume her soul, even though you didn’t know it was  _ possible to do so? _ ”

She’s silent for a bit, staring off into the distance.  “I’m not sure how I knew what to do, actually. It was instinctive, though I’m not sure I can recall how to do it now.  It would be one thing if I was trying to possess her, but using her death to fuel the creation of a body reminiscent of my own at the time I created the horcrux… I couldn’t even begin to imagine how such a process would work.  If I were to guess, it’s an instinctive ability enabled by being bound to a horcrux. As the first sapient horcrux, I would be the first one who was ever able to use that ability to any significant effect.”

I… can’t even imagine how bizarre that would be.  Then again, I also can’t imagine how bizarre it must have been to be shoved into a book for half a century.  It’s bizarre enough not being in control of my own body.

“So, anyways… What were we talking about again?”  She looks pensive for a moment. “Horcruxes… soul magic… oh, right, the killing curse!  The killing curse works by severing the soul from the body, which would normally be impossible, but it uses… well, I guess I loophole would be the best term.  The soul itself is immutable to external influences, but the bindings that connect the soul to the body are  _ not _ immutable to external influences.  The killing curse works by severing these bindings without affecting the soul itself, instantly killing the target.”

“I… don’t quite get why that makes the killing curse feel so gross to cast.”

Tam sighs.  “It’s a paradox.  It kills the target without harming their body.  It affects the soul without affecting the soul. I’ve seen the arithmancy that describes the killing curse and it doesn’t make  _ sense _ .  It’s something that shouldn’t be possible, yet clearly is.  It cannot be shielded or countered because it isn’t supposed to exist.  It feels disgusting because to cast that spell is to channel the impossibility of instant, unavoidable death through the very core of your being.”

I blink a few times.  “Aren’t there… I don’t know, ramifications to casting a spell like that?”

She shrugs.  “Not that I know of.  Nothing outside the usual effects of dark magic, anyways.”

“You don’t know everything, Tam!”  I groan.

She smirks at me.  “No, I don’t, but I am very knowledgeable nonetheless.”  Her expression sobers before she continues. “It’s possible that there are effects to its use, though they’d be hard to track given how many people lose themselves to the use of dark magic in the first place.”

“Great!”  I yell sarcastically.  “So it’s not just addictive, but it twists your mind, too!  Thanks for exposing me to all this crap!”

She laughs at me, clearly finding something about the situation funny.  “You’re fine, Harry. Dark magic’s ‘side effects’ are just a result of people losing themselves to the addiction.  Dark magic is a means to an end, not an end in its own right. So long as you don’t start using it to torture people for stress relief, you’ll be fine.”

“I’d rather not torture people at all, thank you very much.”  I say with a grimace.

“You don’t always have a choice.   Torture is very good for getting information out of people.  Extreme torture is even able to break down occlumency barriers, making it possible to pick the minds of even the best occlumens.”

“I think I’ll let you handle any torture, if it’s all the same to you.”  I reply tersely.

Tam shrugs at me.  “Suit yourself.” She lets out a sigh.  “Any other questions before we get back to your life?  Much as I enjoy the Room of Requirement, we can’t stay here forever.”

I think back on the experience earlier in the alley.  Between seeing Tam’s memory and letting the revulsion of casting the killing curse fade, I no longer feel indignant about his murder.  Instead, it just feels… wasteful. Something that I’m not bothered by (even though I probably should be), but that felt unnecessary.

“…Did you have to kill him?”  I ask after a while.

“…No.  No, I didn’t, but killing him was a very direct solution to the problem.”  She replies, all levity gone from her tone. “In theory, I could have imperiused him or layered a large number of compulsion charms on him to curb any potentially objectionable behaviours.  Both of those would have been imperfect solutions, however. The imperius curse would have taken continual focus on my part to maintain, and the compulsions would wear off after a while. This nipped any problems he would have created in the bud.”

“Are several prevented rapes really worth a murder?”

Tam stares at me for a moment.  “I know that the weight of crimes is relative, and no one can really agree on what crimes are worth performing to prevent others, but I consider rape to be the worst crime of all.  I would gladly kill to prevent it from happening.”

I don’t point out the hypocrisy of her considering rape worse than murder when she was so scared of being killed that she split her soul to prevent it from happening.  I have no desire to start another argument now. Then again, Tamelyn is a person who hates weakness, and above all else, hates feeling weak or powerless. I suppose I could understand why she would consider a crime that makes her feel powerless worse than one that does not.

Is she really afraid of dying, or is she just afraid of being powerless before death?  While I doubt I’ll ever get her to admit it, she is a bit of a control freak, in her own way.  She’s not obsessed with having power, per se, but she  _ is _ obsessed with making sure no one has power over her.

I take a good look at her.  Tam is leaning against a nonexistent wall, the same as always.  Her clothes are just as disarrayed as they were when we first arrived here, and several strands of her hair are still out of place.  Her gaze is fixated on a point away from me, in her usual manner of avoiding eye contact whenever it isn’t necessary.

I look at her, and for the first time, I think I can understand how someone could become Voldemort.  How something as simple as fear and a desire for control in the hands of one with a large amount of power could allow one to bring a nation to its knees.

For the first time, I look at Tamelyn Merope Riddle, and really  _ understand _ how she was able to become Voldemort.

Ironically, this doesn’t make me see Tamelyn as being more monstrous, but rather, it helps me see Voldemort as more human.  I don’t see Tamelyn as being Voldemort in the making, but I instead see Voldemort as being an older version of Tamelyn, twisted by her own fears into something almost unrecognisable, yet distinctly similar.

It’s a strange thought.

And one that I am unlikely to ever share.

So I ask the only other question I can think of.

“What… What did you do to that guy who tried to attack you…?”

She tenses almost invisibly at the mention of the incident.  “I obliviated him of all of his memories.” She says, her tone less level than normal.

“But… you used legilimency?”  I ask, wondering how that would even be possible.

“It’s possible to use legilimency to wipe memories.  Most professional mind arts practitioners actually use legilimency in tandem with obliviation to perform more precise and thorough memory alterations.  Using legilimency on its own, though… Well, it’s like performing surgery with a hacksaw. It will get the job done, but it’s messy and causes a lot of unnecessary damage.”

I only half pay attention to her answer.  My thoughts are still elsewhere, thinking over my recent epiphany.

“Alright, then.”  I reply. “Let’s head back.”

My awareness moves back to my body in the Room of Requirement, and this time, I’m in control of my body.  I stand up and leave the room, heading down towards the Great Hall so I can get some much-needed food.

I’ve given myself enough food for thought to last for weeks.

And I won’t have much time at all to focus on it, since classes start tomorrow.

Yay.

I move into the Gryffindor common room, and see that everyone is already prepared for the upcoming celebration.  Fred and George are keeping the noise level high enough that I’m able to slip in unnoticed. I sit down next to Hermione, who’s clearly engrossed in a book despite the number of distractions in the room.

“Did you have a nice New Year’s Eve?”  I ask her.

She glances up.  “I couldn’t say. The day’s not over yet, you know.  What did you do?”

“Spell practice, mostly.”

Seeing that Hermione is being her usual wet blanket self whenever the Weasley the house has a party, I move over to Ron, who is currently… well, I think he’s  _ trying _ to dance, though it looks more like he’s just flailing about senselessly.  I decide to leave him to… whatever it is that he’s doing.

Percy, much like Hermione, is being a party pooper, standing snobbishly in the corner of the room.  Unlike Hermione, he’s being extra stuffy about it and looking about the room with a sense of disapproval.

Fred and George are busy spiking each other’s drinks and pretending not to notice.  I briefly wonder how they were able to get alcohol before deciding that if it’s anything like coffee — the other “adult drink” — then I’m not interested in getting any.

Unlike previous years, only a small number of people stayed behind at the castle over the break.  No one wants to be around the dementors unless absolutely necessary, which means that the only people actually staying in the school are those who aren’t wanted by their families (me, and most likely a Hufflepuff a few years above me), fifth and seventh years who can’t obtain the study materials needed to study for their exams (most muggleborns, and those from impoverished wizarding families), the Weasleys (for well-known financial reasons), and Hermione (who stayed behind for solidarity’s sake).  So, despite the twins’ best efforts, the party is a subdued affair by previous years’ standards.

When midnight finally rolls around, I feel content with how things are.  Sure, I’m sharing my body with a less-than-stable psychopath, but I also feel like I’m finally learning to take control of my life.

‘Here’s to a new year.’

_ May it be better than the last one. _

‘As low a bar as that is.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** At some point I will run out of exposition to add to this story. This is not that point.
> 
> Ron and Hermione arguing was the easiest part of this chapter to write. Ron was honestly delightful to write in this whole chapter. I do like Ron and wish more fics did him justice.
> 
> I’m honestly not fond of the use of sexual assault as a plot device. Even the use of prevented sexual assault in this chapter left a bad taste in my mouth, and I don’t think I handled it as well as I could have. That said, I wanted to have some sort of scene where Tamelyn completely obliterates the mind of a muggle in an act of self-defence. It not only serves as a motivating factor behind the creation of the diary (a complete backup of her main personality in case something goes wrong), but it also works as a point where she began to dehumanise muggles in an attempt to assuage her guilt about her actions.
> 
> Tamelyn is a very interesting character to write because she is a very flawed person who likes to think of herself as being as close to perfection as possible. She’s motivated far more by her emotions than she lets herself believe. Up until this point, she’s mostly had the upper hand on Harry by sheer virtue of experience, but Harry is gradually starting to learn how her mind works.
> 
> Lastly (but most importantly), Departure from the Diary now has cover art! The artist is Kylee Nim. Full resolution for the image can be found on my Twitter (@umbrastorm) and on Imgur at the address YgOmsbd.


	15. Happiness

I stare bleary-eyed at the breakfast table, slowly munching on a piece of toast I piled with scrambled eggs.

'I think your hatred of mornings is wearing off on me.'

_ I've long said that it's unnatural to be awake before eight a.m. _

'Classes start at eight, Tam.  We  _ need _ to be up by then.'

_ That doesn't make it right. _

'This would be less of an issue if you stopped pulling all-nighters.'

_ Well, excuse me for not taking away from your valuable free time so I can study the illegal magic I need to get a body back.  I'm trying to be polite by doing my research when you're asleep, but if you're going to be rude about it, maybe I should reconsider. _

'Yeah, yeah…'

I briefly eye the coffee in the middle of the table.  A small part of me is honestly tempted at this point, but I still don't think I could get past the flavour.  I opt to ignore it in favour of tea.

_ You’ll have to give in eventually, you know. _

‘Fuck off.’

_ Damn it, Potter.  I want my coffee. _

‘Too bad.  This is  _ my _ body and I want tea.’

Tamelyn forces her way into control of my body and makes a lunge for the coffee.  I wrench control back from her midway through her movement and nearly fall face-first into a basket of bread rolls as I lose my balance.

“You alright there, Harry?”  Ron asks in between chews of food.

“I’m fine.”  I reply. “I just… had a moment.”

Ron’s brow furrows for a moment before he goes back to his breakfast.

‘We are in public!  Don’t act up like that when it’s not necessary!’

_ Easy for you to say.  You’re not the one going through caffeine withdrawal. _

I take a sip of my tea, relishing in the invigoration that it spreads throughout my body.

‘How are you even able to experience caffeine withdrawal?  Withdrawal is a biological process and you don’t have a body.’

_ …Hmph. _

‘You don’t have a justification, do you?’

_ …Souls are weird like that. _

I ignore her obvious attempt to brush off the fact that what she’s experiencing is clearly just in her head.  In the meantime, I continue to alternate between sips of tea and bites of bacon, savouring the contrasting flavours between the two.  That routine is only interrupted when Hedwig swoops down, snatching the next piece of bacon out of my hand before I can take a bite.

“Hey!”  I shout at her.  “I was eating that!”

Hedwig barks indignantly at me and sticks her leg out, drawing my attention to the letter she has.  I pull it off and start reading it.

 

**_Harry,_ **

**_Could you stop by my office this Saturday?  I have some things I’d like to discuss with you._ **

**_Best Regards,_ **

**_Remus Lupin_ **

 

_ I wonder what that’s about. _   


‘He probably wants to do that thing where we just sit there and talk for a bit.’

_ Yeah, but he’s never sent a note before.  I swear, no matter how much you interact with him, I can’t figure out what his angle is… _

‘Yeah, me neither.’

_ It’s weird. _

‘Yeah, it is.  It’s kind of nice, though.’

_ …Suit yourself, I suppose. _

‘You don’t trust him.’

_ Of course not.  He’s an adult in a position of power over us.  I’d be a fool to trust him. _

‘That’s… unfortunately sensible.’

_ I know. _

Hermione takes a seat next to me and begins eating using her left hand while writing an essay with the other.  She doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to what she’s eating, only glancing down at each bite as she opens her mouth.

“I’m surprised to see you doing homework at the last minute, Hermione.”  I comment.

Hermione glances up at me.  “This isn’t homework. It’s classwork for Arithmancy.”

“Extra credit?”  I ask, wondering why she’d be doing classwork during breakfast.

She just groans in reply.  “No. This is the classwork that I  _ would _ have done during yesterday’s class, if I’d been able to attend it.  Unfortunately, Arithmancy is held at the same time as Divination, so I have to alternate which classes I attend.”

“I did tell you that taking all five electives was a bad idea.”  I say, biting back a more sarcastic reply.

She sniffs in reply.  “It just means that I’m busier than usual.  It’s nothing that I can’t handle.”

“Right, and you won’t drop Divination despite hating the subject because…?”

“Because it's nothing I can’t handle!”  She says forcefully.

_ Harry, your friend is a maniac. _

‘You’re one to talk.’

_ Maybe so, but not like she is.  The Divination teacher is so crap that she’d be better off reading the textbook outside of class like we do. _

‘You only do that so you’ll have extra time to laugh at Trelawney during class.’

_ What can I say?  I like my entertainment. _

‘Maybe if you used that “entertainment” time more wisely, you wouldn’t have to pull all-nighters.’

_ Night is always the best time to work.  There’s no one else around to disrupt me.  Besides, the magic needed to recreate my body and bind my soul to it is very much  _ **_not_ ** _ legal.  I really shouldn’t be seen working on it. _

I open my bag and surreptitiously glance at the top of the sheaf of parchments that Tam has filled with countless equations and calculations.

‘You’re worried about someone realising that this is describing illegal magic at a glance?  It’s incomprehensible.’

_ I wasn’t able to get away with murder at the tender age of sixteen without having a healthy sense of paranoia.  And with Dumbledore around, I can  _ **_never_ ** _ be too paranoid. _

I take a closer look at the writing on the page.

‘This is  _ literally _ incomprehensible.  I don’t even know what half of these symbols are.  What sorts of calculations are these?’

_ It’s arithmancy, Harry, not maths.  Magic can’t be described using conventional numerics, so arithmancy was invented instead.  It doesn’t work on conventional mathematical principles, so you won’t be able to get by exclusively using knowledge of conventional maths. _

‘Huh.  I don’t think I ever realised it was so complicated.’

_ With magic involved,  _ **_everything_ ** _ is complicated.  Anyone who says otherwise is deluding themselves. _

‘So what’s on this page?’

_ That was when I was attempting to find a way to arithmantically quantify the fucked-up situation with our soul. _

‘Ah.’

_ Yep.  It’ll be a  _ **_long_ ** _ road to getting my body back. _

‘As if that wasn’t obvious enough already.’

 

* * *

 

I lightly knock on the door to Professor Lupin’s office at the specified time.  Unlike what I’ve come to expect from such visits, he doesn’t open the door for me but instead loudly tells me to come in.

When I enter the office, I immediately notice that the room’s been rearranged somewhat.  The desk and several of the small tables have been moved off to the sides of the room. Odds and ends of clutter have been picked up and moved onto the shelves.  Near the back of the room, a chest has been pulled out and is sitting there with a wide berth around it.

Professor Lupin is giving the chest an examination of sorts before I catch his eye and he waves at me.

“Hello, Harry.  Did you make it here alright?”

I give a small nod.  “I’m fine, professor.”

Lupin gives a small but brief frown when I refer to him as “professor”, though it doesn’t last long.  “Don’t mind me. I was just doing some set-up for what I had planned today. Please, take a seat — I’ll be with you shortly.”

I take a seat at my usual chair in front of Lupin’s desk as he continues to look over the chest — sometimes with his wand, and sometimes without.

“Alright, everything seems to be in order here.  Filch would be quite peeved with me if I wound up letting a Boggart loose in the school.”

“There’s a boggart in there?  Why? We covered them months ago.”

“Well, in this case, I wanted to have one ready because of the unique nature of your boggart assuming the form of a dementor.  It would make a very convenient target for practising the Patronus Charm.”

“You’re teaching me the Patronus Charm?”  I ask, unable to keep a tinge of excitement out of my voice.  Anything that would let me stave off the horrid influence of dementors is welcome, especially given how strongly they affect both Tam and myself.

“Did I forget to mention that in my note?  Yes, I invited you here to start on those Patronus lessons I promised you a long time ago.  I meant to get started on them a long time ago, but none of my recent predecessors left me a viable curriculum, so most of my time was devoted to sorting that out.  And what with my frequent illnesses…” He pauses for a moment. “But I digress. The boggart will let us do something of a ‘live test’, if you will, of your ability to cast the charm.  To start with, though, we’ll just have you cast it without a target. Are you ready to start?”

I nod and push myself up from the chair, wand at the ready.  “Where do we begin?”

“To start with, what’s the first thing you can tell me about the Patronus charm?”  Lupin asks.

“It’s esoteric magic.”  I state.

“Which is?”

“Spells in which the wand movement is supplanted by an emotional component or visualisation.”

“That’s correct, but what does that actually mean, on a practical level?  Do you know?”

I pause and think it over.  “No?”

Lupin smiles.  “This is obviously a bit above your current level, but esoteric spells cannot be cast silently.  As such, clear enunciation is something of a must, and it’s harder to rely on them in a pinch. Much as I hope this never happens, if you’re ever seconds away from being kissed by a dementor, you’d need to be able to clearly speak all six syllables of the incantation in the short timeframe you’d have, and that’s not even going into the emotional component of casting the spell.”

I nod.  “That makes sense.”

“The Patronus charm requires a memory of pure, undiluted happiness.  There are two forms to how the charm manifests, depending on the power and emotion put behind the spell.  The basic form is the mist shield, which serves as a direct protection against smaller numbers of dementors.  When cast with a sufficiently happy memory or by a sufficiently powerful wizard, the spell takes on a corporeal form, like so.”

He raises his wand and casts the spell, forming a glowing, white wolf.

“The corporeal form is capable of defending against a larger number of dementors and can even drive them off.  Now, let’s have you attempt the charm. To start with, I want you to hold your wand out in front of you, focus on your happiest memory, let the feeling of that memory spread through you, then speak out the words ‘ _ Expecto Patronum _ ’.  Alright?”

I nod again and close my eyes while I think through my life.  My happiest memory? Well, I can basically cross the first eleven years of my life off that list.  Just after I turned eleven, though? That might work.

I focus on the memory of Hagrid coming to that desolate rock that the Dursleys retreated to in the hopes of avoiding magic.  The sheer joy of finding out that my parents had actually accomplished something and that they weren’t something I had to be ashamed of.  Most of all, I focus on the overwhelming relief I felt when I realised that I was finally able to leave the Dursleys behind. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t forever — I finally had the escape that I’d been looking for my whole life.

“ _ Expecto Patronum _ .”  I intone, clearly and softly.

I don’t feel anything.

I open my eyes to see the same sight that they beheld when I closed them: the office with its clutter cleared to the side.

“Did I mess up the pronunciation, or…?”

“No, your pronunciation was fine from what I could hear.”  He says. “That means that you either didn’t pick the right sort of memory or that you simply don’t have the power to back it up.”

Given that I have the combined magical strength of myself and Voldemort at my disposal, I don’t imagine that I lack the power to perform the charm.  “I think my choice of memory was lacking.”

“I know this might be personal, but what memory did you use?”

“When I got my first Hogwarts letter.”  I reply, not wanting to give away too much information about the circumstances behind the event.

Lupin’s smile grows wistful.  “That’s a good choice of memory, but the Patronus charm usually requires something a bit stronger.  Try focusing on a different memory and giving it another go.”

‘Any advice?’

_ Sorry, no.  Remember that my childhood was just as shitty as yours.  Maybe try the first time you held your wand? Or the first time you used it to cast a spell?  Those are the first things that come to mind when I think of a happy memory. _

Neither of those feels like they’d be the right memory for me to use, but her suggestions do give me an idea.

I think about the first time I ever flew on a broom.  The sense of exhilaration and freedom that came over me as I left the ground for the first time.  I let those emotions fill me as I try again.

“ _ Expecto Patronum _ .”  I say, more forcefully this time.

Again, nothing happens.

“Dammit.”  I swear under my breath.

If Lupin notices my lapse, then he doesn’t say anything.  “It’s a very hard charm to get down. I doubt anyone gets it right on the first try.  Perhaps you’d like to take a break?”

“No.  I can get this.  Just let me give it another go.”

He appears hesitant but makes no attempt to stop me.

‘Any other ideas?’

_ The only other memory that makes me feel happy is when I was able to get revenge on those who tormented me. _

‘Psychopath.’

_ As if you didn’t feel the same satisfaction when I killed your aunt.  Hell, why not use that memory? It’s not like either of us have a plethora of happy memories to choose from. _

‘I feel like there’s something wrong about using that memory.’

_ Why? _

‘Because I don’t think I could ever look at myself the same way if I tried it and succeeded.’

_ Just give it a shot.  What’s the worst that could happen? _

‘…Fine.’

I go back to the memory of watching Marge’s face turn purple as she struggled for air.  The same way I struggled every time she sicced her awful dog on me, let it chase me into a tree.  I focus on the pure glee I felt as I watched her be as helpless as I felt for all those years and try again.

“ _ Expecto Patronu- _ ”

 

* * *

 

Consciousness comes slowly to me.  My head feels like it’s pounding and my skin feels tingly.

‘…What happened?’

_ I have no idea. _

I groan as I push myself up.  The smell of antiseptic that fills my nostrils tells me that I have somehow landed myself in the hospital wing.  Again. I grab my glasses from their usual spot on the bedside table and blink a few times as my eyes adjust themselves.

I’m completely naked under the sheets, and my skin is covered in pink splotches, like certain parts of my skin are irritated or heavily flushed.

“Don’t you dare move, young man!”  Pomfrey shouts at me. “I had to regrow most of your skin, and I’d rather you not damage it again before it’s finished healing!”

I pause to take that in.  “Why did I have to have my skin regrown?”

“Because you nearly blew yourself up through some kind of spell backlash!”  She shouts. “Professor Lupin brought you here, covered in burns, before he ran off to go speak to the headmaster about something he said was urgent.  What in the blazes were you doing!?”

“Practise.”  I reply tersely.

“Practising what!?  Explosive Curses!?”

I don’t say anything in response, so she just huffs and proceeds about her usual business while occasionally muttering to herself.  Despite the distance, I manage to catch some bits and pieces of what she’s saying.

“Unbelievable, really…  The number of accidents each year…  I know it’s a magic school, but still…”

‘I suppose this is what I get for following your idea.’

_ Don’t blame this on me! _

'I'm sorry, what was it you said before I tried casting the charm?  "What's the worst that could happen?" I am  _ totally _ blaming you for this.'

_ It was worth a shot… _

'That "shot" got us blown up.'

_ I will readily admit to knowing nothing about the Patronus charm.  How was I supposed to know it would react poorly to that memory? _

‘Because it was a memory of me taking delight in watching someone die?’

_ …So? _

‘So that’s something that would generally be considered bad?’

_ Look, all Lupin said was “use a happy memory”, not “use a happy memory, but not a sadistic one, or the spell will blow you up”.  You should really be blaming him for a lack of clarity in his instructions. _

‘You are such a-’

My thoughts are interrupted as the doors to the hospital wing swing open.  Dumbledore and Professor Lupin stride through, taking care not to make too much noise without trying to hide their presence.

“I see some people still have respect for the sanctity of the medical wing.”  Pomfrey’s addresses them. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“We’re here to speak with Harry.”  Lupin says in a subdued tone.

“He’s over there.”  She says, gesturing at me.  “But he’s on strict bed rest for at least another day after what happened.  Honestly, I’m amazed that his body was able to heal as quickly as it did. I would have expected it to take at least twice as long, but he’s just about fully healed in just under a day.”

‘I was out for a day?  And that was a  _ good _ recovery time?  Just how badly did the spell backfire?’

_ Pretty badly, apparently.  It makes sense that you’d heal faster, though, what with me being here. _

‘How does that work?’

_ The body can accelerate its healing process by expending magic.  That’s why people who are injured in an extensive fight tend to heal more slowly — their bodies have less magic to assist with their healing.  So long as you have me in your head, though, you’ll have access to an insane amount of power, especially for a thirteen-year-old. _

“Harry…”  Professor Lupin begins hesitantly.  “Could Professor Dumbledore and I speak with you for a moment?  I’m concerned about the… incident that occurred earlier.”

Oh.  Great.

_ Don't you dare say anything more than you need to.  Not with Dumbledore right there. _

'No need to state the obvious, Tam.'

"You can ask me some questions…" I begin slowly, "but I maintain my right to not answer if I don't want to."

Lupin gives a slight frown of disapproval, but Dumbledore doesn’t show any reaction to my request.  After a moment of staring at me with a blank face, Dumbledore nods and starts his questioning. “If that is what you wish, Harry.  To start with, what is the last thing that you can remember?”

“Practising the Patronus charm in Professor Lupin’s classroom.”

“Do you know what happened to have you end up here?”

“I was caught in some kind of spell backlash.”

Dumbledore glances at Madame Pomfrey before turning his gaze back to me.  “What were the memories you used when you cast the spell?”

“My first attempt was when I got my Hogwarts letter.  My second attempt was when I first flew on a broom. My third attempt…”  I clench my fists for a second to help keep my face neutral. “That one’s private, and I would rather not share.”

The tension in the room grows thick in the following silence until Dumbledore asks his next question.  “Do you know what causes the Patronus charm to backfire like that?”

I resist the urge to flinch.  “I’m afraid that I don’t, professor.”

“Albus…”  Lupin says, urging caution.

“The Patronus charm backfires,” Dumbledore begins, his tone deadly serious, “when a memory of cruelty and violence is used to fuel it.  Speaking as an educator, I would like to know what the memory in question is to ensure that you are not a threat to yourself or others.”

“It’s.  _ private. _ ”   I reply forcefully.

I glare angrily at Dumbledore as he stares back at me with a stony expression.  I begin to wonder which of us will back down first when I feel a slight prodding against my occlumency barriers.  I shut my eyes and shake my head to sever the probe. “You can’t  _ do _ that!”  I shout indignantly.  “You can’t just invade my mind to get the answers when I won’t give them to you myself!”

“Harry…”  Dumbledore says as though he’s a parent warning a child.

“Albus, you can’t just use legilimency on him.”  Lupin says as he turns to Dumbledore. “At risk or not, that’s illegal.”

“Legilimency is allowed without permission or authorisation when the headmaster approves of its use and when a pupil is believed to be an imminent threat to themselves or others.”  Dumbledore replies without breaking his gaze from me.

“And as the headmaster, you’re able to use it whenever you can justify that a student is ‘a threat to themselves or others’?  No, that’s it. We’re done talking.” I say, shutting my eyes and rolling over on my bed.

“Harry-”  Dumbledore begins before Lupin cuts him off.

“I think we’ve done enough damage already, Albus.  I think we should probably leave before Poppy goes off on us.  Come on.”

I hear them getting up and turn my head to glare at them as I leave.  I also catch Pomfrey doing the same, though that may just be because she hates it when people “upset her patients”.

‘I can’t believe that.’

_ What, the legilimency probe? _

‘Yeah.’

_ He probably wasn’t expecting you to be able to detect it, let alone block it.  Occlumency is a rare skill, especially among children of your age. _

‘That just makes it an even bigger violation of privacy.’

_ He used a similar excuse with me the first time I caught him trying to read my mind.  Said he was attempting to “make sure I didn’t have ulterior motives” when I begged not to go back to the orphanage at the end of my third year.  Wanted to make sure I “wasn’t going to take advantage of the lower staff presence to break any rules” since having students stay over the break was “such an uncommon occurrence”.  I mean, getting access to the restricted section during the summer would have been nice, but I would have been glad to just get out of the damn orphanage. _

‘Why didn’t you accept?’

_ Because I was already attempting to find a way to make myself immortal.  That sort of pursuit is considered heavily taboo and if Dumbledore saw all my plans laid bare in my mind, then he probably would have sent me back even after looking in my head.  I figured that since I’d be returning either way, I may as well take the route that let me keep my plans under wraps. _

I lay in the bed, thinking things over.  I haven’t really trusted Dumbledore in a while, what with Tam’s emotions for the man constantly bleeding over.  His actions over the past three and a half years have been negligently passive at best and criminally endangering at worst.

All of that felt distant, though.  I can’t say that I’ve honestly trusted an adult at any point.  My relatives, my primary school teachers, all the neighbourhood parents… Even the magical world’s teachers haven’t been great.  McGonagall has been dismissive of me, Trelawney is drunk off her arse all the time, and I could fill a book with the issues I’ve had with Snape.  Flitwick is probably the closest I’d say I come to trusting an adult, and even then, I wouldn’t go to him with any personal questions — just academic ones.

I’m used to not trusting adults.  But having someone attempt to read my mind without permission?  That feels more personal. I can’t even be sure that this is the first time it happened.  After all, if he’d done it before now, I wouldn’t have been able to notice, let alone defend myself.

It’s not a comforting thought.

 

* * *

 

Madame Pomfrey keeps me in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend.  After getting out of class on Monday evening, I wander up to the seventh floor.  I stare at the blank space where the room of requirement resides before opting to go elsewhere.  I eventually find a recessed window that looks over the forbidden forest and stare out at the sky.  I sit down in the deep windowsill and stare out at the view.

It’s overcast today, but darker storm clouds are visible on the horizon.  It’s so representative of my mood that I’d find it comical if I wasn’t so bothered by everything.

The view is pretty nonetheless, but the additional presence out there isn’t helping my mood.  Hundreds of tiny shadows slowly drift over the treeline just past the edge of the Hogwarts wards.  Even though I know that the dementors can’t exert their effect at this range, just looking at them from this distance is making me feel depressed.

‘It doesn’t seem right, does it?’

_ What, the dementors? _

‘The fact that the people most vulnerable to their effect have the most difficulty casting the one spell that can stop them.’

_ …I’d never thought about it that way, but no, I suppose it isn’t. _

I know that it’s not a permanent conundrum, but I’d have liked to learn the charm as soon as possible given that the abominations are right outside the place I spend most of the year.  They’re staying here until Black is caught, too, and given Tamelyn’s plan to send him off to God knows where with a message for Voldemort, they might be here for a long time.

The idea of being happy enough to cast the charm just feels… distant.  There’s not a lot of happiness to go around in my life, what with me being pursued by killers seemingly nonstop in the magical world, and hated for existing in the muggle one.  I like flying. I like magic. That’s about it.

Hedwig, maybe?  I like her company, but as smart as she is, she’s still just an owl.

A part of me is starting to like Tam as well.  Not necessarily in a romantic sense — as much as puberty is trying to make me feel otherwise — but just in the sense of… having someone to relate to.  Ron and Hermione, while they haven’t lived easy lives, haven’t dealt with the same level of shittiness that I’ve had to. It’s nice being able to talk to someone that just… gets it, even if that person is an adolescent Voldemort.

Hell, we still don’t know why Voldemort went after me that night.  For all I know, maybe she was trying to mark me as her equal by giving me a childhood as shitty as her own.

_ Well, I think I’ve had enough of this. _

‘Enough of what?’

_ You, just… angsting over here.  I’ve had enough of it. I’m taking control. _

She nudges me out of control of my body and begins striding down the hall.

‘So, what are your plans?  Have anything specific you’d like to do?’

_ We are going to see Professor Lupin. _

‘…Are you sure that’s a good idea after the confrontation we had with Dumbledore in the hospital wing?’

_ No.  No, I’m not sure, but I’m prepared to take a risk for your benefit.  You have  _ **_got_ ** _ to talk to someone better adjusted than me. _

‘…Right.’

_ I’m also severely uncomfortable with neither of us being able to cast the Patronus charm.  We should try and see if we can convince him to let us have another go at it. _

‘Well, I’m not sure that will work, and even if we are able to convince him, we might not be strong enough to cast the spell.  I suppose it could be worth a try, though.’

_ Of course it’s worth a try.  I’m full of good ideas. _

‘Tam… your last idea literally blew up in my face.’

_ Yes, well… shut up. _

She walks up to Lupin’s door and passes control back to me after knocking on it.  

He seems surprised to see me once he opens the door.  “Harry… I’m surprised to see you here. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to speak with you for a moment.  Can I come inside?”

Lupin opens the door further and moves back towards his desk.  “I have some essays I need to grade, but I’m always willing to make time if you need it.  So what can I do for you?”

I pause before answering.  I know Tam said that I really should talk to someone, but I’m not sure how I would even begin doing so.  With nowhere else to start, I jump to the second topic.

“I’d like another chance to learn the Patronus charm.”

Whatever hesitance crossed his face on the previous occasions I asked is nothing compared to the look on his face now.  He almost looks on the verge of panic. Then again, given that I blew myself up the last time I tried, I suppose it’s at least somewhat warranted.

“I… hope you can understand my hesitance to do so.”  He begins slowly. “I mean, when I saw your burned body after the explosion happened, I panicked.  I took you to Madame Pomfrey as soon as I was sure that you were stable enough to be moved.”

I nod.  “I understand.  But I want to try regardless.  I mean, now that I know what I did wrong last time, I can avoid it in the future.”

Lupin lets out a deep sigh.  “Albus will have my head if you end up in the hospital wing again under the same circumstances, but if you really want to, then I’ll supervise.  If you’re anything like your parents, you’ll do it no matter what I say, so I may as well keep you supervised.”

As much as Tam and I want to learn the charm, I doubt either of us would be reckless enough to do so unsupervised if it’s that dangerous.  I don’t correct Lupin’s misconception, though, since it got me what I wanted.

“I’m also sorry about what happened in the hospital wing yesterday.”  He continues. “When I told Albus about what happened, I didn’t expect him to interrogate you the moment you woke up.  While I owe him a great deal, I’ve known him to be a bit, well, excessively righteous isn’t the exact term I would use to describe him…”

_ I would use it. _

‘I know.  You have. Frequently.’

“…but he definitely has his biases.”  Lupin finishes. “If… if you don’t mind my asking, what  _ was _ the memory you used when the spell backfired?”

“I want you to swear that you won’t tell anyone.”  I demand.

“I won’t tell anyone if you’re not comfortable with-”

I interrupt him.  “I want an oath.”

Lupin’s brow furrows.  “Where in the world did you hear about oaths?  Those fell out of common usage around half a century ago.”

‘I suppose that makes sense, given that my source of information is half a century out of date.’

_ While I won’t deny your point, I object to your phrasing. _

‘At least I didn’t call you old this time.’

_ I’ll grant you that. _

“I read about them in a book.”  I reply.

Lupin lets out a deep sigh.  “Harry, oaths fell out of use for a reason.  You can’t just have people swear oaths willy-nilly every time you want to tell them something you don’t want getting out.  Oaths bind people’s will under threat of death.”

‘They bind wills?’

_ Yeah, you can’t break an oath accidentally.  You have to actively fight the magic of the vow before it will kill you.  As I’ve said before, they even occlude thoughts from legilimency probes if the information in them would fall under the oath’s purview.  I had you swear one for a reason, as it was the best way to ensure that you didn’t go blabbing to anyone or have someone pluck the information from your mind. _

“Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, Harry?”  Lupin continues. “Sometimes, you just have to trust people.”

“Trust is a weakness.”  I reply reflexively.

Lupin doesn’t say anything in response to that.  He just looks at me sadly, like his whole world is crumbling around him and he knows there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

We sit in the resulting silence for a while, neither of us knowing how to break it or even willing to try.  Eventually, he looks up from his desk and faintly murmurs “I’m sorry”, quietly enough that I don’t think I was the intended target of the message.

With the silence broken, I speak up.  “I would like to talk about it, professor, but I need some assurance that you won’t go blabbing to Dumbledore or anyone else about what I tell you.”

“And you don’t trust me to do that without an oath.”  It’s phrased like a question but spoken like a resigned acceptance of an uncomfortable truth.

I nod.

“…Do you trust anyone, Harry?”

I don’t reply.  It feels like a trick question, and even if it wasn’t, I’m not sure how I would answer.

Do I trust anyone?

To an extent, I trust Ron and Hermione.  I trust them to have my back and to stick with me when things get bad.  I trust the Gryffindor Quidditch team in much the same way but to a lesser extent, with the possible exception of Katie, whom I’d probably place closer to Ron and Hermione in terms of how much I trust her.

So yes, I suppose I do have limited trust in some people.  But do I trust them with information? With intimate knowledge of my life?  No, no I don’t.

Tam is the only one who has that sort of trust out of me, and it’s a trust born of necessity rather than one that formed naturally.  I’m quite certain that there is no way we would trust each other as much as we do if we didn’t require the other’s help.

But none of the other people I trust know more about me than they need to, and  _ none _ of them are adults.

“I want an oath, professor.”  I restate.

Lupin sighs again.  “Harry, oaths haven’t been commonly used in years.  I wouldn’t know how to swear one even if I was willing to do so.”

‘Tam?’

_ On it. _

She shifts into control of my body, grabs a blank piece of parchment and quill from his desk, and begins writing out the wording for the oath.  When she’s done, she pushes the parchment over to him.

“I don’t know your middle name, but it would go where that blank space is.  The usage of your full name is necessary for the oath to form.” She explains.

“Harry, I’m… is this really necessary?”

I shift back into control of my body and stare at him for a moment.  “I’m not going to repeat myself, professor.”

He lets out a resigned sigh and begins repeating the oath.  “I, Remus John Lupin, do vow upon my life to not willingly share or allude to the memory that caused Harry James Potter’s Patronus charm to backfire.  As magic is my witness.”

Binding the magic of the oath feels different than it did when Tamelyn made her oath, though that may just be because of our body-sharing situation.  I have to almost reach out to touch the magic to accept the conditions of the oath.

I try to figure out where to start now that I know he won’t go blabbing.  I decide that I may as well start at the beginning.

“My aunt died this summer.”

Lupin looks up at me.  “I’d heard about that. Petunia’s sister-in-law, right?  It came up when I was being interviewed for the position here.”

“Well, she suffered a heart attack this summer when she was staying over with us.  It was just a case of cardiac arrest, but muggles aren’t able to treat it as easily as we can, so it killed her.”

“Harry-”  Lupin begins, but I cut him off before he can continue.

“I just sat there and did nothing.  I watched her die. I could have done magic to save her, but I didn’t.”  It’s true. I could have fought back when Tamelyn seized control, but I didn’t, because deep down, I wanted Marge to die and was glad it happened.

“Harry, you can’t blame yourself for failing to do something.”  Lupin explains, obviously missing the point that I’m trying to make.  “Sometimes you just panic in the heat of the moment and-”

“No, you don’t get it.”  I say, cutting him off again.  “I hated her. She had done nothing but torment me on every occasion since we first had the misfortune to meet.  I didn’t help her because I  _ wanted _ her to die.  I watched her face turn blue as she slowly suffocated and deep down, I was glad, because it meant she wouldn’t be able to torment me anymore.  I was happy that she was dead.”

Horror dawns on Lupin’s face as he begins to realise what I’m telling him.

“I wanted to throw up a little bit once I realised what I was thinking, but I’m over that now, I think.”

Lupin covers his face with his hands.  “Harry, I… that sort of memory is so fundamentally opposed to the Patronus charm’s purpose… I don’t even know where to start.”

“This is why I wanted a vow.”  I say.

“I’m sorry, this is just… much more than I was expecting.”  Lupin lifts his face from his hands and looks at me, seeming much more lost than he did before.  “The Patronus charm, despite it being the rare example of defensive esoteric magic, is more volatile.  A killing curse cast with a memory of love won’t do anything, while a Patronus charm cast with a memory of hate, well…”

“It explodes.”  I finish. “It would have been nice to know that before I tried attempting the charm.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”  Lupin leans back in his chair and looks out the window.  “You just look so similar to your parents that sometimes I forget you’re not exactly like them.”

“No, I’m not.”  My parents weren’t orphans, nor did they have Voldemort’s horcrux in their head.  “So now that I know what not to do, I’d like to try the Patronus a second time.”

Lupin sighs.  He looks resigned, but also just… tired.  “Come by my office next weekend and I’ll see what I can do.”

I nod and, after thanking him for his help, leave the room.

 

* * *

 

“So, Potter,” Malfoy’s unwelcome voice interrupts me, “Word around the school is that you ended up in the hospital wing all weekend.  Got too worried about Black killing you and tried to take the easy way out, did you?”

And to think that Malfoy had been so (comparatively) well-behaved this year.  I gesture for Ron and Hermione to stop before turning around to face Malfoy, keeping a disinterested glare on my face as I do so.  “You think I’m worried about Black? I beat Voldemort twice, including when she was at the height of her power, and you think I’m worried about a madman who spent more than a decade wasting away in prison with his only company being soul-eating demons?  No, Black isn’t a concern to me.”

Malfoy’s expression quickly turns from smugness to anger, as it does every time he’s rebuked.  “Think you’re so smart, do you? Think that because you bested the Dark Lady as an infant that we should all bow down to you?”

_ I hate him. _

‘Me too.’

_ He reminds me of his grandfather.  Far too entitled and far too used to getting his own way. _

‘Any tips for dealing with him based on your experiences with his grandfather?’

_ Hmm… Scare the living daylights out of him. _

“And where do you get off saying you bested her twice?”  Parkinson pipes up from behind Draco. “Everyone knows the Dark Lady vanished after your parents died.  How could you possibly have faced her a second time?”

I raise an eyebrow.  “Oh, is that what you think?  Dumbledore told me that everyone knew what happened, but then again, he’s rarely upfront with people, is he?  Do you guys remember Quirrell?”

“What about that incompetent stuttering fool?”  Draco scoffs. “He died at the end of first year from some horrible illness.  That’s what he gets for going abroad to all those uncivilised lands. He probably caught something from one of those barbaric natives.”

I shake my head.  “Quirrell was dying because he was being possessed by Voldemort’s wraith.  He was trying to resurrect her, but I stopped him, and then I killed him.” I smirk.  “It was all self-defence, of course, which is why I won the house cup for it instead of being expelled.  But what really matters is that I faced your ‘Dark Lady’ for a second time, and for a second time, she lost.”

“You’re lying.”  He declares.

I shrug.  “I might be, but the evidence adds up a bit doesn’t it?  Quirrell’s fake stutter, his greying skin, the visible veins, the smell of decay that he always tried to cover up with garlic…  Sure, I have no proof that Voldemort was involved, but you can’t deny that he was possessed. You remember that thing we found drinking unicorn blood in the forest when we had detention?  That was Quirrell, trying to extend his life long enough to get to resurrect her. So even if I might be lying, do you want to take a chance?”  

I grab Draco’s robe and lean in so I can whisper in his ear.  “Your daddy had a diary that he slipped into Ginny’s belongings last year.  How do you think your Dark Lady will react  _ §when she finds out he lost it?§ _ ”

Malfoy can’t understand parseltongue, of course, but I think slipping into it sent a better message than leaving it in English would have.  I leave the dumbstruck Slytherins behind and catch up with Ron and Hermione, who are still waiting nearby. The moment we turn the corner, Ron and I exchange a look and start laughing hysterically.

“Did you see the look on their faces!?”  Ron asks. “Malfoy was scared shitless when you were done with him!”

“Language!”  Hermione chides.  “And I don’t see what’s so funny.  You were basically threatening him, Harry!”

“Technically, I  _ was _ threatening him.”  I reply once my laughing calms down.  “And don’t pretend it wasn’t karmic. That little shit has been threatening people since the day he walked into this school, and probably even before that.  The least he deserves is getting the tables turned on him.”

“Language!”  She repeats. “And you shouldn’t be sinking down to his level.”

I roll my eyes.  “Well, I’d rather not ‘righteousness’ him into submission, if you don’t mind.”

“If sinking down to his level gets him to shut up once in a while, then I’m all for it!”  Ron adds.

Hermione huffs and starts walking ahead of us.  I gesture at Ron and we start making our way to the next class.

“Seriously, mate, that was great.”  Ron says as he slaps me on the back.

I grin back at him.  “Well, I guess next time I’ll just have to do even better.”

_ You really did handle that well.  A bit recklessly, perhaps, but nicely done nonetheless. _

‘Thanks.  I was doing my best impression of you for most of that.’

_ …I’m not sure whether I should feel insulted or flattered. _

‘Go with flattered.  It shut Malfoy up better than anything else I’ve done has.’

_ I’m not sure that telling them about my core self’s escapade in the castle two years ago was a good idea, but you definitely shut him up.  It reminds me of the time I threatened to castrate Abraxas if he ever thought about touching me. Maybe I should have done so regardless — his offspring don’t seem much better, especially not since Lucius let me fall into Ginny’s hands, and gods only know why. _

‘Wait, your diary falling into Ginny’s hands wasn’t part of some sort of plan?’

_ Of course it wasn’t, at least not any plan that I was aware of.  No, the first time I was truly aware of anything after being separated from my main soul was when Ginny started writing in me.  I was wholly disoriented and, if I’m being honest, a little irrational. Using the basilisk at all was, frankly, stupid, and put her at a lot of unnecessary risk. _

‘…Right, of course you’d care more about the basilisk that all the people whose lives you risked.’

_ Tessie is special to me. _

‘You have issues.’

_ What can I say?  Basilisks are cute. _

‘Sure they are.’

_ I’ll make you understand someday — just you wait. _

 

* * *

 

“Dammit!”  I swear as I once again fail to get a single spark from the Patronus charm.  I’ve worked my way through almost every happy memory I have, and I still haven’t gotten the charm to form.  The closest I got was my memory of naming Hedwig and petting her for the first time, but that only slightly roused my magic, not even enough to even get the basic mist shield down.

“Remember to keep yourself calm, Harry.”  Lupin advises from the side. “If you get too angry, the charm might backfire again.”

“I know, you keep reminding me.”  I bite back at him.

Lupin actually winces at my tone — I suspect he’s still trying to come to terms with, well, me.  He’s right, though — getting angry won’t solve anything. I take a deep breath and begin using my occlumency to settle my emotional state.

‘I think I need a break from this.’

_ Want me to try? _

‘Sure, just don’t blow us up.’

_ I’m not an idiot, Harry. _

‘Well, your idea got us blown up last time!’

_ And I have learned my lesson.  If something  _ **_else_ ** _ gets us blown up this time, then I’m blaming Lupin for continuing to give poor instructions. _

I’m annoyed at her nonchalance about the ordeal, but I can feel a faint trickle of amusement coming from her as she shifts into control of my body.

_ Alright, so, happy memories…  Happy memories that  _ **_aren’t_ ** _ based on cruelty or violence…  Hmmm… _

‘It’s pretty hard, isn’t it?’

_ Yes, it is.  Oh, what about the first time I spoke to a snake? _

‘Seems as good an idea as any.’

I feel her call up the memory and attempt the charm for herself.  Much like my attempts, nothing happens. She runs through several other memories without success, including her becoming prefect, her becoming Head Girl, and her obtaining O’s on all of her N.E.W.T.s.  None of her attempts so much as stir her magic.

_ Dammit. _

‘I know.’

_ Your best attempt was with your owl, right?  Maybe I should try something similar. _

‘You don’t have a- Oh Goddammit you’re going to use the basilisk, aren’t you?’

_ I love that basilisk. _

‘I know you do, and I think your taste in what qualifies as adorable rivals Hagrid’s’

_ Well, that’s rude of you.  I may enjoy some unconventional things, but I would never call an acromantula “adorable”. _

‘Okay, I guess that’s fair.’

_ If you’re going to call any of the giant arachnids cute, you’d want to pick one that isn’t hairy, like the Chilean Drowder. _

‘I rescind my previous statement.’

I feel her pull up the memory as she prepares to cast the spell.  Curiosity overcomes me as I feel it flowing so close to the surface of her mind.

‘May I?’

_ Go ahead. _

With her permission granted, I dip my awareness into her memory and let it engulf me.

 

* * *

 

_ O.W.L. year is unbearable. _

_ I expected it to be challenging.  I was prepared for it to be challenging. _

_ What I wasn’t prepared for was the sheer quantity of work required. _

_ Even now, only a month into the semester, I’ve barely had any time to myself.  Between my prefect duties, the constant review work the teachers are assigning, and attending Slughorn’s Slug Club meetings — because I refuse to lapse in maintaining my social connections, no matter how busy I get — I’ve had to let most of my side projects drop to the wayside, including, much to my chagrin, my pursuits of immortality.  I try and avoid thinking about the uncomfortable subject of my own mortality when my mind wanders. _

_ I cast another  _ **_Homenum Revelio_ ** _ charm, confirming that no one else is nearby.  I know I’m supposed to actually  _ **_look_ ** _ for people staying out after curfew, but I have enough things to do that I really don’t feel like wasting time doing things by hand. _

_ With the third floor done, I head down to the second floor and start doing my rounds there.  I cast another revealing charm which pings a presence further down the hall. Alas, if the black hair and Gryffindor robe are anything to go by, then it’s not someone I care to run into. _

_ She seems to be walking towards me, so I’m sure as hell not going to be seen backing down by taking a detour.  I grit my teeth and prepare for an unwanted confrontation. _

_ “Ye know ye’re supposed to be lookin’ for people, dontcha?  Not castin’ charms?” The girl’s Scottish lilt says as I try to walk past. _

_ I stop and roll my eyes.  “Really, Minerva? It must have escaped my notice sometime during the last month.  Besides, my charm work is more than adequate. I’m sorry if yours are incapable of doing the job thoroughly.” _

_ She bristles under my insult.  “Oh, ye just think ye’re too good for us, don’t ye?  Fancy Miss Riddle over here, doing the bare minimum required to keep her shiny prefect badge.” _

_ “Some of us have other responsibilities.  Not everyone has the time to waste pulling pranks on the other students, you know.”  I bite back. _

_ “Better to be pulling pranks than kissing the arses of the purebloods in yer house!”  She counters. “Besides, who’s to say I don’t have other plans? Ye know, I was thinkin’ of becomin’ an animagus for me N.E.W.T. project.  It’d make me the youngest in over a century? I don’t suppose ye’ve got anything planned, eh?” _

_ I raise an eyebrow and smirk.  “Oh, it must be sad that the only thing you could come up with for a N.E.W.T. project is something that you can only do because Dumbledore favours you so heavily.  My N.E.W.T. project? I had something special in mind.”   _

_ I reach into my pocket and pull out a black leather-bound journal with “T. M. Riddle” embossed on it in gold.  It was a splurge I made over the summer. It’s the one nice thing I own that’s both truly mine and that I can use freely in the muggle world.  It feels right to make it into something special for my project. _

_ “I was thinking of doing some runework in this.”  I explain, showing off the journal. “I have some astounding plans for it.” _

_ Minerva stares incredulously at the diary.  “It’s a ruddy book, Riddle! Ye can’t just fill it with some runes and turn it in for a grade!”  She shouts. _

_ I shake my head.  “Minerva, if you think that’s all I’ll be attempting with this journal, then you’re thinking too small.  No, I have much grander plans for this thing than as a container for some explanation of runes.” _

_ She scoffs.  “Bah, spare me yer shite.  If ye keep up the same attitude towards the project that ye do to yer duties, then would’n put it past ye to just pass the work off to one of yer toadies.” _

_ I stiffen at her jab.  “I may take shortcuts when feasible, but all of my academic achievements are my own.” _

_ Minerva laughs.  “‘Academic achievements’?  Is that what ye call suckin’ up to Slughorn?”  She stops laughing and eyes me critically. “Then again, with how much he favours ye, maybe that’s not all the suckin’-” _

_ Anger flashes through me and my wand is in her face in an instant.  “Watch your tongue Minerva, or I may decide you don’t deserve it anymore.” _

_ She scowls and pushes past me.  I take a few deep breaths before stepping into the nearby bathroom to wash off my face. _

_ Dammit, I hate how she always manages to get under my skin like that.  Occlumency has helped with emotional control, but I’ve never been exceptionally good at controlling my anger.  Probably just another way that being raised in that crappy orphanage has messed with my head. _

_ I turn the handle on the tap in front of me, but no water comes out.  Doesn’t that just figure. I move to the sink next to it and splash some water on my face until I’ve calmed down enough. _

_ I glare at the broken tap.  How the hell does the plumbing in a magic school break?  One would think that between impervius charms and runic enchantments, then something as simple as a sink would be impervious to breaking. _

_ Curiosity getting the better of me, I look under the sink.  Nothing seems to be visibly broken. I twist one of the pressure valves a few times, not noticing any difference in the sink above as I do so.  I move to try the other valve, but double-take when I notice the valve has “open” inscribed on it. _

_ I’m amazed I can read it, what with the fact that the writing doesn’t actually resemble anything.  It just looks like a bunch of weird, wiggly lines. _

_ Is… is that parselscript? _

_ I’d read about parselscript, of course.  It was offhandedly mentioned in a few books I could find when I was looking up parseltongue, but there were never any examples of what it  _ **_looked_ ** _ like, since everything I’d found that mentioned it was busy chiding parseltongue as a “dark” language, as if languages could even  _ **_be_ ** _ dark. _

_ That doesn’t answer my question of what the hell it’s doing written on a pressure valve in a girl’s bathroom, though. _

_ It couldn’t be… I’d heard of the Chamber of Secrets, of course, but assumed it was just a myth.  The story of Salazar hiding some sort of great beast in a hidden chamber beneath the school was just too fantastic to be believable.  But then again, one could say the same about all of his descendants being parselmouths, and I know that’s true from experience… _

_ “Open.”  No, that’s English.  I still need to get better about using parseltongue when I’m not talking to a snake.  I add that to the end of my very long mental to-do list. _

_ I stand up and stare at myself in the mirror.  I close my eyes and try again. _

_ “Open.”  Dammit. _

_ I look down at the sink and notice a relief of a snake on the side of the tap.  I focus on it and try again. _

_ “§Open§” _

_ A grinding sound fills the room as the sink… sinks into the floor and the wall behind it opens up into a circular portal.  What I wouldn’t give to study those enchantments. _

_ That thought is pushed from my brain as stale air washes up from the newly opened entrance.  This place has clearly not been opened in a long, long time. I shine my wand down the hole, but I don’t see any sign of a bottom. _

_ Well, much as I want to see if this really is the Chamber, there’s no way I’m about to go sliding down some old and grimy stone tunnel.  Let me think… if I was Salazar, what would I do? I sure as hell wouldn’t have my heirs sliding down some slimy chute. If I was to guess, that tube would be used to, I don’t know, transport materials.  Which means there must be an actual entrance nearby. _

_ I walk down the length of the room, feeling at the tiling on the wall as I do so.  I don’t see anything at first glance, but my hand eventually feels an uneven surface.  I light my wand and shine it at the irregularity, revealing a lemniscate formed from two interwoven snakes with the word “open” written in parselsript below them. _

_ “§Open§” _

_ The wall parts, revealing a simple spiral staircase downwards.  I hold my wand up in front of me and start moving down. _

_ Well, when I set out to do my rounds this evening, I sure wasn’t expecting this. _

_ The staircase evens out far more quickly than I would expect, presumably due to some sort of space manipulation enchantment.  The staircase opens up into a spacious hallway of some sort. To the left is what I can only assume to be the circular tunnel I found in the bathroom above.  To the right, the hall continues for a bit before turning out of sight. Lots of small alcoves and side passages dot the corridor, making it a wholly unique sight, even by Hogwarts standards _

_ Well, even if this isn’t the Chamber of Secrets, it’s still an impressive find in its own right. _

_ I step forward into the hallway and my foot immediately sinks up to my ankle in the water.  I shiver at the unpleasant sensation, cast an overpowered drying charm at my foot, then cast an impervious charm on both of them to keep them dry.  I doubt it will hold for more than an hour in these conditions, but I don’t plan to be down here for that long. _

_ I admire the stonework as I walk down the hallway.  It looks as though the masonry was built into an existing cave system, which would explain how Salazar would have been able to build such a place without the other founders discovering it.  I assume this cave is under the lake, if the amount of water on the floor is anything to go by. _

_ I reach what I can only assume is the end of the hallway.  Two stone snakes cross over each other in the centre of the wall.  Time to see if this really is the Chamber of Secrets. _

_ “§Open§” _

_ The snakes come to life and slither aside, parting the wall behind them.  Another wash of stale air comes over me, prompting me to cast bubble-head and air freshening charms on myself, lest I succumb to a coughing fit.  I step through the opening, and any doubt that this is the Chamber of Secrets evaporates from my mind. _

_ It’s beautiful.  The room is an enormous dome, easily hundreds of metres across.  Carvings of all sorts of snakes of all sorts of sizes adorn the ceiling, and statues surround the perimeter of the room.  Unlike the previous passages, the central chamber is lit by sourceless light, allowing the whole place to be viewed easily. _

_ I move towards the large statue that rests in front of a large relief of a man’s face.  Salazar himself, possibly? It seems a bit egotistical, but the man did seem to have a flair for the dramatic. _

_ The statue has a few details which catch my eye.  The man has a wand on his person, but it’s sheathed in favour of a dagger. _

_ No, not a dagger.  An athame? I’d heard offhand references to types of magical foci besides wands, though they were never really elaborated upon. _

_ The other interesting detail is the small, round shield that he wields with it.  I imagine such an item must have been enchanted with some level of protection, as it would likely be far too impractical against spells otherwise. _

_ My attention turns to the relief of the man’s face on the wall behind it.  The mouth of the statue looks to be hewn from a separate piece of stone, so it must open somehow.  The usual “Open” password doesn’t have any effect, so it must open through other means. After searching along the details in the stonework, I manage to find another parselscript carving.  I’m about to open the mouth, but then I freeze as the absurdity of what I’m doing catches up to me. _

_ I have no idea what lies behind this statue.  Hell, I had no idea what was in this room before I opened it!  I take a deep breath and think over what little I know about the chamber. _

_ It was created by Salazar Slytherin almost a millennium ago.  That much is probably indisputable. It was said to house a terrifying monster.  Well, given that he and his descendants are parselmouths, the beast in question is likely some sort of snake, so I should at least be able to speak with it.  The beast was supposedly created to “cleanse the muggleborn taint from the school”. If I’m going to run into any issues, it will probably be there. The only evidence I have that I’m not a muggleborn is my parselmouth ability.  Even then, it could just be a fluke, since Riddle isn’t a magical surname. If it’s able to sense my blood status somehow, then it might kill me without thinking. _

_ I suppose my best bet would be to rely on Fiendfyre.  I’ve only tried casting it a few times, but it should hopefully be enough experience that I can pull it off properly in a pinch.  Even if it’s not able to kill the creature, it should hopefully wound it long enough for me to escape. _

_ I take a deep breath and prepare myself.  “Here we go… §Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!§” _

_ As the mouth slowly grinds open, a deep thrum vibrates through the chamber.  The thrum slowly turns into a serpentine hiss — nothing that directly translates from parseltongue; it’s more of the equivalent to a groan.  I hear the sound of slithering and see movement in the shadows of the mouth and decide to test if I really can communicate with it. _

_ “§Stop!§”  I hiss. “§Identify yourself!§” _

_ The slithering sound stops, and a much deeper hiss echoes through the chamber.  “§A speaker, then? It has been so long… Who are you, child? I do not believe we have met before.§” _

_ My mouth feels dry.  What the hell am I doing?  “§My name is Tamelyn Merope Riddle.  What are you? What is your nature? The legends of the Chamber of Secrets spoke of a beast held within, but gave no clues to its identity.§” _

_ The serpent lets out a deep hissing laugh.  “§The Chamber is a legend now? How sad to be so forgotten by time’s passing that the world doubts one’s reality.   To answer your question, child, I am the Queen of Serpents, but Salazar himself gave me the name ‘Tessie’.§” _

_ Queen of… dear gods, the Chamber’s monster is a  _ **_basilisk_ ** _!?  Now I’m not even sure Fiendfyre would work, especially not against one of its…  _ **_her_ ** _ age.  “§I would like to speak with you, but…§”  How should I phrase this? “§I would like some assurance that I will not be harmed.  Creatures of your kind are known for their lethality to the point that you are able to kill with a look.§” _

_ The sound of her slithering once again fills the chamber.  I shut my eyes once I see her start to emerge from the wall.  I tense and grip my wand tighter as I hear her body moving all around me. _

_ “§Open your eyes, child.  My gaze will not harm you.  Salazar infused the essence of the serpent into his bloodline, rendering him and his heirs immune to all aspects of the snake.§” _

_ “§I am not sure if I truly am descended from him.§”  I hiss, my voice uneven. “§And I do not want to die.§” _

_ She laughs again.  “§I can feel the faint echo of the snake within your blood, child.  Open your eyes. No harm shall come to you here.§” _

_ I take a deep breath and open my eyes.  The fear and anxiety that was filling me until just now is washed away by the sight that greets me. _

_ The beauty of the Chamber is nothing compared to the beauty of the Basilisk.  Her scales are a deep midnight black, so deep that they almost look absent, but when the light reflects off of them at the right angle, they glimmer with a brilliant emerald sheen. _

_ Is that why my eyes are green?  Some faint representation of the snake essence infused into my blood? _

_ Tessie’s eyes are also gorgeous, and as I gaze into them, I pity everyone who lacks the ability to see them without being harmed.  The slitted pupils and amber irises are impossibly vivid, the sort of colour that only magic can create. I can feel the intense power emanating from them, washing over me without harming me. _

_ “You’re beautiful…”  I say, dumbstruck, before realising that I spoke in English.  “Er, sorry, §you’re beautiful. I was so shocked that I forgot to hiss.§” _

_ “§I can understand a bit of English, though it’s a very different language now than it was when I was first hatched.  Come, let me guide you through the Chamber.§” _

_ Tessie explains the history of the Chamber’s creation, Salazar’s conflicts with the other founders, and the purpose of several of the side chambers.  There’s a ritual room, a potions laboratory, and even a kitchen. None of them are stocked at the moment, but they’re otherwise ready for use.   _

_ I ponder sharing my discovery of the Chamber.  After all, it’s the sort of relic that was so lost to the ages that it was thought to be a myth.  It wouldn’t be a miracle solution to any of my issues, but it might at least get me some money to help with my plans and some fame I can use to make connections. _

_ After guiding me through the rest of the Chamber, she goes back through the statue’s mouth and tells me to follow.  The stone in the antechamber is worn smooth, presumably from centuries of slithering over its surface. A parselscript carving covers the far wall. _

_ “§This leads to the Chamber’s Inner Sanctum.  It is warded against everything Salazar could think of and can only be opened with an offering of his blood.§” _

_ “§Blood wards?  Those are illegal these days.§” _

_ She shakes her head in dismay.  “§That’s a pity. The magical workings of blood were Salazar’s specialty.  Now come, open the seal so you claim your birthright.§” _

_ Birthright…  I’ve become so used to having nothing and being given nothing, fighting for everything I need.  The idea of owning something just because I was born is so wholly foreign to me. _

_ A quick cutting charm at my hand lets the blood flow, and the stone on the back wall slides away to reveal a gorgeously furnished chamber.  There are chairs, tables, a desk, and even a bed. What really catches my eye are the books, though. There are old leather-bound journals, ancient tomes in dead languages, and copies of books that have been out of print for ages. _

_ There’s no way I’m letting anyone know about this now.  The thought of people getting their hands on this is making my skin crawl.  Too many people would want to use the knowledge for their own ends, and too many people would want to destroy them for the knowledge that they hold.  The Chamber of Secrets will remain just that — secret. Besides which… it’s mine. I own a library of ancient forgotten magic, and I will take full advantage of it to become the strongest witch I can possibly be. _

_ I pull out several of the notebooks.  Most of them are in Old English, which I have no clue how to read, but a few of them are written in parselscript.  Silently thanking Salazar for imbuing the gift of magical language comprehension on his descendants, I flip the book open to a random page and read it. _

_ It seems to be instructions on how to perform a “soul transference ritual”, which moves a soul possessing one target to another target.  It also only works on unbound and partially bound souls, which gives it such an extremely specific range of uses that even I can’t figure out one in which it would actually be useful. _

_ Well, even if I’m never likely to perform the ritual in question, soul magic is still extremely hard to find information on.  I’m sure I’ll spend a lot of time dissecting the information in these books when I have the time. _

_ Speaking of time… I turn to face the basilisk.  “§Tessie, I would love to stay, but I need to get back.  Thank you so much for showing me all of this. I’m going to be very busy this year, but I’ll make sure to sneak down as often as I can to study here and to keep you company§.” _

_ She shakes her head.  “§Child, showing the heirs around here is my duty.  Now, if you need to be going then you should be doing so.§” _

_ I reach out hesitantly and begin rubbing the scales on her face.  The feel is similar to that of previous snakes that I’ve touched, but the scales are far harder, owing to their thickness, and far sleeker than any I’ve touched before.  She begins emitting a low purr, so I keep it up for a while. Feeling more fulfilled than I have in possibly my entire life, I reach out and hug her. Her head is comically large compared to my body, but I don’t care.  I reach my arms around her as far as I can and hold her for a moment. _

_ Finishing up my first hug ever, I start jogging to get back to the castle.  “§Bye, Tessie! Thanks for everything!§” _

_ I seal the Chamber door behind me and begin walking down the access corridor.  For quite possibly the first time in my life, I feel truly happy. Yes, I’m still a poor orphan in a war-ravaged country, but for the first time, I have a true connection to the magical world.  I have access to a secret library of my own. Most importantly, I have the company of the most beautiful snake I have ever set eyes on. It doesn’t matter what life throws at me — I’ll do what I’ve always done: persist and make the best of it. _

 

* * *

 

Coming back to my own identity is less of a shock this time that it’s been in the past.  I feel subtly pushed out of the memory rather than unceremoniously dumped back into my own awareness.

_ You alright? _

‘Yeah, I’m fine.  That was your first time opening the Chamber?’

_ Yes. _

‘You only found it by accident?  It wasn’t part of some grand plan?’

_ Harry, the best things in life rarely come from grand plans.  No, they usually come from pure coincidences that happen to work out in one’s favour. _

‘…You really do like your basilisk, don’t you?’

_ Of course.  She was the first one to ever show me affection.  I make every attempt to return the favour to her. _

I feel the memory fill her once again as she moves to cast the spell.

“Expecto Patronum.”  The words spoken softly rather than yelled, and unlike all of our previous attempts, it works.  White mist shoots forth from my wand, forming a shield before coalescing into a faintly glowing snake.

“Oh, well done!”  Lupin applauds from the side of the room.  “And a corporeal Patronus, too!” He moves closer and examines her Patronus more closely.  “Not fully corporeal, I see. The edges are a bit blurry, but still, that was a very good first cast.  I’m a bit surprised by the form, though… Why a snake?”

“It’s a basilisk.”  Tam says in a state of utter admiration.  “It’s a small, adorable, glowing basilisk.”  She hisses at it, and it slithers up my arm and over my shoulders, leaving faint traces of warmth everywhere it touches.  “As for the why? Well, I am the Heir of Slytherin.”

“Harry… is that really something to take pride in?  Slytherin was in favour of the complete exile of muggleborns from magical society.”

“He was also an experienced soul mage and an unrivalled blood alchemist.”  Tam counters. “He performed a feat which had never been achieved before and has never been achieved since — he imbued an instinctive knowledge of an entire language into his blood, and did so with such strength that it still persists now, a millennium afterwards.  I’m not going to pretend that the man was a saint, but I won’t let his flaws outshine his amazing accomplishments.”

“Well…”  Lupin’s eyes glance downward to the Patronus snake that continues to lay drooped over my shoulders.  As his eyes rest on it, the hesitance in his face melts away. “Alright then. Whatever makes you happy, I suppose.”

_ I do feel happy. _

‘So do I.  I think it’s just because I can feel your Patronus resting on me, though.’

_ It does feel euphoric, doesn’t it? _

‘Yeah…’

Lupin turns towards the chest he has which contains the boggart.  “Well, I’d like to get to the live test at some point, but I think we had best end our lesson here.  If you’d like to try it against a fake dementor at some point, then we can schedule another meeting.”

Tam’s attention is still completely on her Patronus.  “That’s fine, professor. And thank you for teaching me this.  It’s amazing.”

Tam leaves the room, Patronus still resting on her shoulders.

_ I know these next few years are likely to be busy for us, but you know what?  I think it’ll be worth it. I said that the best things in life usually come from coincidences that happen to work out in one’s favour.  I think that this is one of those coincidences. _

I know it’s probably just the Patronus warmth making us feel giddy, but…   


‘I agree.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** Sorry about the delay on this chapter.  IRL shit happened. Anyways, there’s a lot of stuff that happened in this chapter.
> 
> First off, yes, I decanonized time turners in this fic.  I was on the fence about this for a while, but in the end, I deemed them to be an unnecessarily overpowered addition to the world, especially since they don’t serve any purpose to the alternative year three narrative I’m working with.
> 
> Some of you may think that Dumbledore was being unnecessarily harsh in invading Harry’s mind.  Dumbledore is working with a very different set of information, though. As far as Dumbledore knows, Voldemort is the Heir of Slytherin.  He knows that the Chamber of Secrets was opened last year, and he knows that two of his students were abducted into the Chamber, where a ritual of unknown nature was performed.  Afterwards, he knows that Ginny was obliviated, and Harry was not obliviated, but claims to have no memory of the incident.  Harry returns to school the next year, acting much more reclusive and cynical than was normal for him, then he causes severe spell backlash when casting a “light” charm.  Dumbledore has his doubts about what’s going on in Harry’s mind right now.
> 
> I was torn about whether Harry or Tam should learn the Patronus, if they learn it at all.  Having Tam perform the Patronus while Harry can’t is a drastic inversion of what one would expect, but at the same time, it’s another point that shifts the balance of power in Tam’s favour, something that this fic already has a lot of.  Tam is older and smarter than Harry, and the balance of power in this fic has reflected that. Harry has only started to even the scales between them in the past few chapters. Ultimately, I liked the idea of Riddle being able to cast a Patronus quite a bit, so I kept it in the story.  Harry will master the charm eventually, just not now.
> 
> This chapter was a lot of fun to write, even if I found it challenging at times.  I had a lot of fun writing Lupin feel heartbroken as he sees what a cynical and unhappy person the child of his two best friends has become.  I also had a lot of fun with Harry’s morality becoming more skewed. He was totally being a hypocrite about Dumbledore looking into his mind once when Tam was doing it to him constantly for months.
> 
>  **E/N (Foadar):** I was pleasantly surprised by some of the things done in this chapter upon a first reading. The Patronus backlash reminded me of scenes in Star Wars fics where Darth Vader tries to heal his mangled body with the Dark Side of the Force, and that goes about as well as you expect. I am not sold on the idea of parselscript myself, but the use has been adequate so far and has yet to truly annoy me. 
> 
> Lastly, I wish everyone a belated Happy New Year and a good 2020. May the year be productive and fruitful for you.


	16. Grim

I pull my awareness out of the muggle's mind and cut the legilimency probe.  I've seen enough from him. Tam has had me move to the next stage of legilimency — reading memories.  I've been at it for an hour, and I think I've already had enough. I didn't expect that I would find myself with an increasing hatred of people the more I learn about them.

'I feel like I need a shower.'

_ That bad? _

'Yes, that bad.'

I used to think that the Dursleys were an exceptional example of the worst traits of humanity — vain, petty, selfish, racist, and so on.  Now I'm finding myself learning that their mindset is depressingly common — most people are just better at keeping those thoughts to themselves.  It's painting a rather unpalatable picture of humanity, if I'm being honest.

'No wonder you hated the people in your orphanage so much if this is the kind of stuff you were constantly seeing in their heads.'

_ I was surrounded by zealots and attention deprived children.  If anything, it was worse. _

I've been rooting through the minds of various muggles in one of London’s commercial districts for the past two hours, and I'm already tempted to jump ship and let humanity burn.  I can't imagine how I would feel if I spent over a decade looking through worse memories.

'No wonder you hate people.'

I feel her almost reply, then hesitate.  When she still doesn’t retort, I go back to picking the minds of unsuspecting muggles.

Wandless legilimency isn’t like other types of wandless magic.  Technically, it isn’t a conventional spell at all, but a discipline of the mind arts that’s capable of using a wand as an amplifier.  It was almost comically easy to learn to form probes without relying on my wand as a crutch, even with the limited amount of practice that I have.

I dive into the muggles mind, shoving my way past his surface thoughts into the depths of his mind.  I start rooting through his various memories in search of the things he most wants to keep hidden. It takes a bit of digging, but I eventually manage to find…

Oh dear God, that’s  _ disgusting _ .

I hastily pull out of his mind.  I’ve seen enough.

‘I want to throw up.’

_ What was it this time? _

Rather than answer, I shove my secondhand memory at her.

_ What is…?  Oh, ew.  _ **_Ew!_ ** _   Why would anyone…!? _

‘I don’t know!  The worst part is that he  _ liked _ it.’

_ Ugh, that’s just…  I think we’re done.  I’m sure you’ve had enough for one day. _

‘I’m sure I have.’

_ I swear, every time I think muggles can't get any worse… _

'Is it really a problem exclusive to muggles?'

_ I'm quite certain that I've never seen something like  _ **_that_ ** _ in a magical's mind. _

'No, not that specifically, just all of the… everything else.  Racism and sexism and all the other sorts of discrimination. Doesn't the magical world have sexism and blood purity?'

I can actually feel her thinking before she replies.  She apparently wasn't prepared for this question.

_ The magical world… is  _ **_not_ ** _ a utopia.  It has its own share of issues that continue to persist to the current day, but… _

I feel her thinking again.

_ The issues of the magical world are neither as prolific or extreme.  Magical Britain is one of the least progressive magical nations in the world.  The only one in Europe that's less progressive is Slavia, a magical supernation in northeastern Europe, and their lack of progression is primarily due to the area's history. _

I really need to work on my history studies…

_ Even with the comparative regressivism of Britain, a lot of the biases found in the muggle world simply don't exist.  There's no discrimination by gender identity or sexual orientation, though such things aren't publicly flaunted, either.  Nationalism exists, but racism doesn't. Sexism in Magical Britain is primarily concerned with how one comports themselves, and is not concerned with what occupations one fills, unlike the muggle world.  Classism exists in both worlds, but that's pervasive everywhere throughout history. Blood purity and speciesism are the only forms of discrimination that can be found in the magical world but not the muggle one, mostly because the muggle world lacks any true allegories for them.  Even then, speciesism isn't a consistent issue across various nations in the magical world. Britain is one of only seven magical nations in the world to have unilateral rights restrictions for demihumans and non-human beings. _

Now that she mentions it, I think I have seen a few same-sex couples in Hogsmeade, but I hadn’t really thought anything of it at the time.  Now that she’s mentioned it, though…

‘I hope you don’t mind if I want to confirm what you told me.’

_ Not at all.  Now let’s get out of here. _

Tam shifts back into control of my body and apparates us back to the secret Hogsmeade passage.  I turn to go down the passage back to Hogwarts, but…

I really don’t feel like going back yet.  I’d like a chance to clear my head.

With that in mind, I turn around and start walking that way.

_ You know the castle is in the opposite direction, right? _

‘Yeah, I just… need to get out for a bit.’

_ Suit yourself.  Just be careful. _

The passage is unreasonably long, honestly.   It’s rather inconvenient given that most of the ones in Hogwarts have some degree of space manipulation to make them more convenient.

_ I'm not surprised that there's no space compression enchantments on it.  In addition to the fact that it's an extremely long tunnel, which is by nature much harder to ward, it also crosses over several other ward lines that would interfere with it.  The Hogwarts wards alone would cause so much interference with any other ward scheme that intersects with them. _

'Couldn't they just, I don't know, use multiple space compressions along the route of the tunnel?'

_ In theory, though aligning multiple space compressions along differing ward schemes can easily cause problems.  For all we know, there  _ **_is_ ** _ a space compression ward, but it might be faulty from lack of use. _

The passage ends abruptly, the stone slope increasing sharply in steepness until it meets the ceiling.

'This must be the other end of the passage.'

_ Funny that this is the first time we've seen it in the many times we've come down here. _

I push on the ceiling, causing the trapdoor to swing open.  The cellar of Honeydukes is clearly used for storage, holding a large number of crates and barrels with some basic preservation runes etched into them.  A tale a quick look around the room as I don my invisibility cloak, close the trapdoor, and sneak upstairs.

Today is unseasonably warm, hence why Tam and I had decided that today would be a good day to sneak into London for some additional practice.  Some sort of heat wave passed over the British Isles, giving us a single day of comparatively temperate weather before the cold of winter sets back in.  Even Hogsmeade is feeling the effects of said heat wave — if I wasn't using my cloak to stay invisible, I’d be half-tempted to take it off and enjoy the weather for a bit.  It’s not warm enough that I’d be able to do so without getting cold at all, but that's what warming charms are for.

…Come to think of it, this is my first time being in the village when it's  _ not _ a Hogsmeade weekend.  It's actually quite peaceful here without the chaotic bustle of students filling the streets.  For the first time, I find myself understanding the appeal of living here.

I move towards the edge of the village where the Shrieking Shack rests by its lonesome self.  There are a few boulders in the small clearing outside the Shack’s bounds, so I hit one with a warming charm and lie down on top of it, letting the cloak fall off of me as I do so.

‘You know?  I think I hate people.’

_ Oh?  Is this a new discovery for you? _

‘…No.  No, not really.  It’s just that now I have proof that I was right to hate people.’

Amusement trickles from the area Tam occupies in my mind.

_ Well, as you pointed out earlier, I’m no huge fan of people, either.  There’s a reason I spent most of my Hogwarts career studying magic away from prying eyes. _

‘Hmmm…’

January is such a depressing time of year.  Even without the usual bitter cold, the barren trees and dead grass don’t make for an appealing sight.  Maybe I should have gone to the Room of Requirement instead, just so I’d have better scenery.

On the other hand, the Room of Requirement always weirds me out a bit when it does outdoor locations.  It’s always too… unnervingly real. Like, it imitates nature so perfectly that it feels almost fake. It’s a nice place to get away in a pinch, but the outdoor rooms always feel off once I start looking too closely at the details.

‘So, do you want to check out the Shrieking Shack while we’re here?  It’s not like Lupin has made any efforts to tell us about it, and I  _ am _ getting curious.’

_ Eh, sure, why not?  It’s not like we have anything else to do.  Just let me take control once we get close so I can check for wards. _

I start marching through the uncut grass, trying not to make the evidence of my trek to the Shack  _ too _ obvious.  I’d be tempted to just cut down all of the weeds in my way otherwise.

However bad the shack looked from the distance is nothing compared to how bad it looks up close.  At least a quarter of the wood is visibly rotting, and the rest probably isn’t faring much better, even if it doesn’t look outwardly bad.  None of the windows have a fully intact pane of glass in them, and cobwebs and dust cover almost every visible interior surface.

‘Well it sure doesn’t look like much…’

_ I’ll be checking the wards anyways.  Just give me a moment… _

She shifts into control and starts casting various detection charms.  I do my best to pay attention to what she’s doing, but while I can follow along with the spells she’s using, I can’t interpret the results.

_ Okay, it looks like there were several wards here in the past, but they’ve all been deactivated for some time.  The only ones I could positively identify were a containment ward of some kind and a powerful all-purpose aversion ward.  The rest are too faint for me to make anything out. Want to take over again before heading inside? _

‘Yes, if you would.’

I shift back into control and stare at the boarded up door, considering the best way to get inside without collapsing the whole building.  After a moment, I shrug and point my wand at the door.

“ _ Carpe Retractum _ .”

A molten-red cord shoots from my wand, connecting to one of the boards.  The cord pulls itself taught once it connects, ripping the wood off as it does so.  The plank tumbles through the air before landing at my feet.

Well that was easier than expected.  The wood must be really rotted if I didn’t even have to pull at it with the charm.

I repeat the process on another one of the boards, this time causing the door to creak open as it does so.  I’m about to pull another one free when movement inside the building catches my eye. What in the hell could that be?

“ _ Lumos Magus _ !”  A small ball of light shoots out of my wand, sticking to one of the walls inside the shack, letting me see the illuminated figure of…

A dog?  What the hell is a dog doing out here?  Then again, it could just be a stray looking for shelter who picked an inconvenient place to hide, poor thing.

The dog slips through the gap I created in the boarded-up door, walks down the rickety steps leading, and sits in the grass in front of me.

_ Oh no. _

‘What?’

_ Grim! _

Tam forces her way into control of my body, but I wrench control back before she can do anything.

‘It’s just a dog, Tam!  Calm down!’

_ Easy for you to say, Mister “I run into danger at every opportunity”! _

I roll my eyes.

‘You are  _ so _ melodramatic.  Besides, you didn’t take any of Trelawney’s stuff about the grim seriously back in class.  Why are you freaking out now?’

_ Because that was  just her spouting nonsense about a mush of tea leaves!  This is different! Grims are spectral hellhounds that can only spawn in the material plane through the use of a daemonic summoning ritual, and they are said to bring death upon all of those who bask in their presence! _

‘Hold on, there are  _ summoning rituals!? _ ’

_ Yes, there are four categories of summoning rituals and all but one of those categories is likely to end in the summoner’s death.  Daemonic summoning is  _ **_not_ ** _ the safe category. _

I stare at the dog in front of me, panting and wagging its tail as it looks at me expectantly.  It sure doesn’t look demonic to me.

‘It’s just a dog, Tam.’

I lean over and start scratching the dog behind his ears and rubbing his face.  His tail starts wagging faster and he barks appreciatively.

_ Oh, this is such a bad idea… _

I groan.  “Oh my God, Shut up,-”  The last word dies in my throat before I can say it.  I was about to say her name, but the word won’t come out.

‘Why can’t I say your name out loud?’

_ …What do you mean you  _ **_can’t_ ** _ say my name out loud? _

‘The word just… catches in my throat?’

_ Okay, whatever you do, don’t react.  Keep petting the dog like nothing’s wrong. _

‘Why?  What’s the big deal?’

_ The fact that you can’t say my name means that doing so would break the oath. _

‘Seriously?  Just saying your name would count?’

_ You swore to keep all of my secrets.  I’d wager the fact that you can communicate with me would count as one of those secrets.  Oaths can be a bit odd when it comes to enforcing what does and doesn’t count as breaking them.  That’s the not issue, though. You can say my name out loud most of the time. That you can’t do it now means that someone is listening. _

‘Oh.’

_ I’m going to be taking over and casting some detection charms.  Remember — no sudden moves. _

I suspect that reminder was more for her sake than my own, given that she takes over my body before I would even have a chance to make a sudden move.  She pulls out my wand and discreetly casts several charms.

_ Okay, there are no sources of magical listening nearby, which means… _

She stands up and turns around.  “ _ Homenum Revelio! _ ”

A dim red pulse shoots out of my wand, lighting up the surrounding area.  Besides that, nothing seems to happen.

“So if they aren’t listening and and if they aren’t nearby, then how could they…?  Oh, oh I see.” She turns around to face the dog. “ _ Animagus Revelio. _ ”

A dim blue pulse shoots out of my wand.  This time, the dog glows a bright blue when the spell passes over it.  Tam quickly lets off a stunner, but the dog bolts out of her path and starts zigzagging through the surrounding brush.  She fires several more stunners, each of them missing the fleeing animal.

_ Hold on, you might feel this a bit. _

The sensation of building pressure fills my body, the familiar sensation of overcharging a spell flooding through me.  Tam builds the pressure to an extreme level before pointing my wand in the dog’s general direction.

“ _ Homorphous Maxima! _ ”

If I was in control of my body, I would have heavily staggered from the effects of casting that spell.  As it is, even Tam shudders from the sheer amount of power she just channelled.

And what a spell it was.  The pale blue spell bolt was enormous, covering such a wide area that I doubt she could have missed her target.

Sure enough, a figure stands up from the area she hit.  He’s wearing old clothes and his hair is dirty and matted.  In spite of that, there’s no mistaking the man’s identity.

“Sirius Black.”  Tam says coldly as she approaches him.  “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Black looks up at us, a tortured smile spread across his face.  “You look just like your father.” He says, seemingly to himself.  Then he starts laughing hysterically, the laughs interspersed with sobs.

_ Well, he’s definitely not mentally stable after all his time in Azkaban. _

‘I’m not surprised.  Can you imagine spending that much time under the influence of dementors?’

_ I really do need to eradicate those things… _

“I’m surprised to see that you’re an unregistered animagus.”  Tam continues. “Though it would explain why no one has been able to find you.  Now then.” She levels my wand at him. “I’m afraid that this meeting must come to an end.  I need you, after all.”

The look on his face goes from pained amusement to panic.  He pulls out a wand and moves to cast a spell. Tam casts a shield and enters a defensive pose before he even starts moving his wand, but instead of attacking us, he casts a smokescreen.  She quickly dispels it, but in the short time it takes her to do so, he managed to disappear.

_ Damn.  I was so close, too. _

‘Maybe if you’d bound him or gotten to the point instead of monologuing at him like some kind of storybook villain, you would have succeeded.’

_ Yeah, well maybe you should shut up. _

We stand in that field for a moment, taking everything in.

_ I think we need to talk to Professor Lupin. _

‘I think you’re right.’

 

* * *

 

I pound on Lupin’s door, perhaps a bit harder than necessary.  It may be rude, but I’d really like to know why someone who was once Sirius Black’s close friend never let anyone know he was an unregistered animagus, especially after he broke out of prison.  Keeping that sort of information to oneself can get people killed — not that it has, but that’s besides the point.

Lupin opens the door after I knock again.  “I’m sorry, but can this- Harry? What are you doing here?  Is something wrong?”

I glare at him for a moment.  “Sirius Black is an unregistered animagus.  His form is that of a black dog. I would like to know  _ why _ you never told anyone this.   _ Now _ .”

Lupin blinks a few times before what I said catches up to him.  “Harry, you’ve seen Black? Where is he? Is he in the castle? We have to go tell Dumbledore!”

‘Tam, how should I handle this?’

_ Tell him the truth… for now.  I’ll handle things if they get out of control. _

“Black isn’t in the school, professor.”  I say, raising my voice enough to get through his panic.  “I saw him outside of Hogsmeade, near the Shrieking Shack.”

Lupin whirls around to face me.  “ _ You’re _ the one who’s been sneaking out!?  I knew someone was sneaking out using one of the secret passages, but I would never have thought it was you.  I cannot begin to express my disappointment in the fact that you value your life so poorly that you would risk it by leaving the castle grounds without supervision while a dangerous killer is out to get you!  Of all the foolish, reckless, and dangerous things to be doing…!”

“I can handle myself, Professor Lupin.”  I say with a touch of bitterness in my voice.  “I’ve gotten by without adults to protect me before, and I can continue to do so now.  Besides which, I bested Black today and he only got away because he was able to get out a smokescreen charm after I forced him out of his animagus form.  Speaking of which, we’re getting off topic. I want to know why you never told anyone about the escaped criminal’s animagus form. I may not be a law enforcement officer, but I’m pretty sure that that’s important information that shouldn’t be withheld.”

Lupin lets out a deep sigh.  “Harry, you need to be able to trust the adults in your life to handle things once in a while.”

“But you’re not handling things.”  I spit out. “Now stop changing the subject and answer my damn question!”

Lupin sits in his chair and stares pensively at me.  “Back in school, I was friends with three other boys my age — James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew.  We were a notorious group of pranksters and we dubbed ourselves 'The Marauders'.”

I nod.  He’s mentioned this before.

“In our fifth year, we performed a modified unbreakable vow.  Are you familiar with the intricacies of unbreakable vows?”

I nod again.  “An unbreakable vow is a magical vow formed between two people.  Each of the two parties is able to impose binding conditions either mutually or onto the other party, all of which must be agreed upon at the end for the vow to form.”  Tam pushes an additional piece of information into my brain, which I then recite. “Unbreakable vows will frequently use third parties to help bind the vow, though this is not necessary for the formation of a stable vow.”

Lupin nods.  “That’s the gist of it, yes.  The four of us worked out a way to change the vow such that the vow was four-way as opposed to two-way, with each of us able to impose a condition on the other three.  Sirius Black bound us to not reveal that he was an animagus to anyone else.”

I blink.  Huh, that actually does make sense.  Lupin didn’t tell anyone else because he  _ couldn’t _ tell anyone else.  Still…

"If you were willing to swear an unbreakable vow in fifth year, then why did you have so many issues with me asking for an oath?"  I ask.

Lupin pinches his brow.  "While there are a lot of similarities between oaths and vows, such as not being able to break one unintentionally, there are enough differences to matter.  For one, the historic use of oaths is less than favourable when looked at from a modern viewpoint. Oaths were often demanded from the Lords of old to bind servants into their service indefinitely.  They were used less frequently when the world moved on from that era, but they still hold the implication of an exchange of power. They almost completely fell out of use half a century ago at the end of the war."

I raise an eyebrow in confusion.  "Voldemort was slain a decade ago, not half a century ago."

Lupin stares at me for a moment.  "Goodness, Binns really hasn't updated his curriculum, has he?  No, I'm not talking about Voldemort — I'm talking about Grindelwald."

I don't recognise the name, but Tamelyn evidently does, given the spike of anger I feel from her.

"Grindelwald was a Dark Lord in the thirties and forties.  While Voldemort was focused on enforcing blood purity in Britain, Grindelwald was a magical supremacist who wanted to collapse the Statute of Secrecy so that magicals could rule over muggles.  He imperiused several individuals in Germany who went on to lead their country into a genocidal war, a war you would know as World War II, that crippled the muggle side of the continent. Grindelwald went on dominate the magical side of Europe, and was only stopped when Dumbledore started leading the offensive against him."

Of course it comes back to Dumbledore.   _ Everything _ always seems to come back to him.

"Grindelwald was notorious for demanding oaths from every single one of his soldiers.  He demanded oaths of secrecy and servitude from every one of them to prevent anyone from leaking information or turning traitor.  When the time came for Dumbledore's campaign against Nurmengard, he made every single one of his soldiers swear an oath that that would not surrender or let themselves be captured alive.  Every single one of them fought to the death because that was their only chance of survival. Once the public found out about the lengths Grindelwald went to to ensure secrecy, oaths were phased out of common usage.  No one wanted to use them after seeing what he’d used them for."

Wow.  Well that's certainly something.  "I wasn't aware that there was a magical side to World War II."

"Magic is everywhere in the world's history — most muggles just don't know to look for it.  This was all before my time, of course, but my father told me stories of the things he heard about when he was in Hogwarts.  Of course, with Voldemort's war starting when I was a child…" Lupin shudders. "Well, the things she did very much reminded me of those stories."

Whatever rage Tam felt at the mention of Grindelwald's name is nothing compared to the all-consuming fury she feels at being compared to him.  The emotional bleedover is so extreme that I attempt to pull up my occlumency barriers before I remember that I  _ can't _ create barriers between us due to weird soul shit.  Cleaning my fists in frustration, I use my limited legilimency skills to reach into her mind and pull  _ her _ barriers up.  Doing my best to keep myself distracted, I keep the conversation flowing.  "So oaths were phased out because Grindelwald abused them so heavily?"

"The extent to which he used them was terrifying."  Lupin explains. "The stragglers in Nurmengard continued to fight even after Grindelwald's defeat, since there was no way to release someone from their oath without Grindelwald doing so himself.  He obviously refused, so every one of those soldiers lost their life. That's another reason why oaths have fallen out of usage but vows haven't — unbreakable vows allow escape clauses that nullify their effect when certain conditions are fulfilled.  For example, the oath I swore with the other marauders has an escape clause that says we are no longer bound to keep that person's secret if the person dies or if they betray the others. Unfortunately, the treachery that Sirius performed doesn't seem to have tripped that part of the vow, so I still can't talk about his animagus form with anyone who doesn't already know about it.  As the last living person who knew about it, I had no way of telling anyone anything about it."

"Wait a minute…"  I say. "I thought Black was 'Voldemort's right hand man'.  That's what all the papers have been calling him, at least. How does what he did not count as betraying you?"

Lupin groans.  "The Daily Prophet is very prone to exaggeration.  Sirius's role in Voldemort's inner circle was likely purely related to espionage.  As it is, he was only caught because… Are you familiar with the fidelius charm?"

I nod.  "Professor Flitwick explained it to me when he was describing how warding works."

"Right, well, at the end of the war, your parents were hiding under a fidelius charm with Black as their secret keeper.  Voldemort was able to find them despite that, which means that he told her where your family was hiding. It was… it  _ is _ hard for me to believe that he'd do that, but…"  Lupin trails off, a distant, haunted look in his eyes.  “I’d have thought he had the information tortured out of him at first, but then he killed Pettigrew in cold blood, and there was no doubt to his loyalties after that…”

"So, were the rest of you animagi, too?  Or was it only Sirius?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Hmm?  Oh, um, no, not all of us."  Lupin says, reeling from the change in subject.  "James, Sirius, and Peter all became animagi. I have a… condition that makes it impossible for me to become one."

I didn't know that was possible.  I'm half tempted to ask Tam for further information, but I can still feel her anger simmering on the other side of her occlumency barriers.

"No, the secret I have is… well, I'd rather not say, if it's all the same to you."

And he was being so good about being forthcoming with information until now.  Several months ago, didn’t he say he would tell me later? Well, it’s later now, and I am tired of having people withhold information from me.  I wait until I can make eye contact with Lupin and launch a legilimency probe into his mind. He was thinking about it recently, so I shouldn’t have to dig  _ too _ deep.  I push my way past his surface thoughts and…

No.

**WRONG!**

I wrench myself out of his mind, grasping at my wand so I can point it at him.  I take several deep breaths as I try to calm the frantic beating of my heart. Lupin, to his credit, just looks shocked at my reaction.  

_ Harry, what happened?  I felt you panic something awful. _

I don’t respond to Tam’s question.  My eyes are fixed on Lupin, watching him for any sudden moves.  When my breathing finally levels to a point where I can speak, I ask the only question that I can think to ask.

“What are you!?”

A frown flashes across Lupin’s face, but I’m too panicked to care about his feelings right now.

“What do you mean, Harry?”  He asks. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Your mind, I went inside and once I pushed past the surface it was all dangerous and  _ wrong _ !  None of the minds I practiced on were like that!”

_ Harry, you’re giving away a lot of information here.  …Oh my gods, you’re still not listening to me, are you?  If you can’t control yourself then I’m going to have to take control.  Actually, I might have to take control anyways… _

“Harry, where in the world did you learn legilimency!?”  Lupin asks incredulously. “And who were you practising on!?  It’s not legal to use without permission or a court order, you know!  It’s especially hypocritical of you to be doing so after the scolding you gave Albus the other week!”

“WHAT ARE YOU!?!?”  I shout at the top of my lungs.

_ Oh, that’s it.  I’m taking over.  You’re clearly in no state to be doing anything right now… _

I feel her trying to force her way into control of my body, but I can’t let her be in control right now!  She says I’m acting irrationally, but she didn’t feel the  _ wrongness _ that was in his head!  She won’t… She won’t…

That thought it cut off as she puts more power into what she’s doing and wrenches me from control of my body.  The shock of that is enough to push me out of the worst of my state of panic.

‘That hurt.’

_ I won’t have to do it if you manage to keep better control of yourself.  Honestly, you  _ **_are_ ** _ an occlumens, if an inexperienced one — I should hope you’d have better control of your emotions than whatever  _ **_that_ ** _ episode I just witnessed was. _

Lupin slumps back into his chair.  “I suppose I may as well tell you at this point.  I’m… a werewolf. I was infected when I was a young boy, and I’ve had to live with it ever since.”

Tam pauses halfway through sitting down.

_ Well, that explains the panic, I suppose. _

“Come on,” Lupin says as he stands up, “No sense in sitting down.  We need to go see Dumbldore.”

“I’m sure you can let this little incident slide, Professor.”  Tam says as she fingers my wand.

He turns to face us, a disappointed expression on his face.  “Even if I  _ was _ going to let the unauthorised use of legilimency slide,  _ which I won’t _ , we still need to talk to him about Sirius Black.  I am bound by my unbreakable vow not to tell anyone about his form, but  _ you _ are not.  We need to tell him so that  _ he _ can get word to Law Enforcement so that they can catch him.  I have no doubt that he’s spent most of his time as a dog so he can avoid the manhunt that’s been after him.”  Lupin moves towards the door. “Come now, if we hurry, we might not miss dinner.”

Tam levels my wand at his back.  “I’m sorry, professor, but I won’t be speaking with Dumbledore about this today.  Or ever. I need Black alive and uncaptured, you see.”

Lupin turns around, eyes wide with shock.  “Harry, what-”

“ _ Obliviate _ .”

 

* * *

 

Tam walks into the Gryffindor common room and collapses into one of the chairs with a huff.  Everyone else has left for dinner, leaving the room empty save for the two of us.

_ Well, today's been rather emotionally draining. _

'No kidding.'

_ I still can't  _ **_believe_ ** _ he compared me to that arsehole Grindelwald. _

'What's the deal with Grindelwald?  I'm really not familiar with the history of his war.'

_ He was a Dark Lord when I was in school, and he…  Ugh, I really don't want to get into this now. Can we talk about it later this evening?  I can't muster up enough anger to talk about him right now. _

'If that's what you'd prefer.  Mind if I take over again?'

_ Be my guest.  I could use a break anyways… _

Tam passes control of my body back to me and I let out a sigh of relief.  Now that I'm back in control, I can feel faint, lingering signs of the panic that overtook me earlier.  My breathing is still a bit deeper than normal and my heart is still pounding.

Well, I learned a valuable lesson, at least — don't attempt to read the mind of a werewolf.  I doubt I'll be forgetting  _ that _ any time soon.

'As bad as it sounds, I'm really glad you obliviated him.  I can't believe I lost my composure like that.'

_ To be fair, I doubt most people would be able to maintain their composure under the duress of putting their mind in direct contact with a werewolf.  The fact that the full moon was two days ago probably played into the intensity of your reaction as well — if you'd done it two weeks ago, it probably would have been less extreme. _

"What a way to spend the day…"  I mutter to myself.

"Sorry, what was that, Harry?  I didn't hear you." A voice says from my right.  I look over and am surprised to see Neville sitting in one of the chairs off towards the side of the room.  He's so unassuming that I must have missed him when I first came in.

"Nothing, just griping to myself."  I reply nonchalantly. "What are you doing up here instead of being down at dinner?"

Neville shrugs awkwardly.  "I usually like to eat a late dinner on the weekends.  Most people choose to eat early, so I like to get some work done while the common room is empty."

I slump back on the couch and stare at the ceiling.  "Yeah, I can appreciate that. I hate people, too."

"I don't…  _ hate _ people."  I hear Neville mutter.

I turn my head to glance at him.  "Is that so? Huh, you could have fooled me.  I mean, you hate attention, you hate crowds, and you look like you want to curl in on yourself every time someone scrutinizes you."

As if brought on by my words, Neville starts to curl in on himself.  "Well, yeah, but…"

"It's fine, Neville."  I say with a dismissive wave of my hand.  "There's nothing wrong with hating people.  They're loud and judgey and unpleasant to be around.  Sure, I like some individuals like Ron and Hermione and Katie and the twins, but people as a whole disgust me."

"I don't…"  Neville mumbles before speaking up.  "I don't hate people. Yes, some individuals are bad, but I think that people as a whole are good if you give them a chance to be good."

'Well that's delightfully naïve of him.'

_ It's the sort of crap that Dumbledore believes in.  Except in my case, apparently — I was just  _ **_born_ ** _ evil in his mind. _

"I find it hard to see the best in people when most of the student body accuses me of being a dark wizard just because I can talk to snakes."  I reply quietly.

"I mean, you did try to sic that snake on Finch-Fletchley…"  Neville counters.

"I didn't tell that snake to attack Finch-Fletchley!"  I yell, throwing my hands up in the air in frustration.  "I tried to tell it to calm down but the thing was terrified and he was the closest thing for it to attack!  It might have listened to me if  _ I _ summoned it instead of Malfoy, or if Lockhart hadn't aggravated the thing by sending it flying through the air first!"

"Sorry…"  Neville mumbles, shifting his gaze to his feet.

I pinch the bridge of my nose — being mean to Neville feels like kicking a puppy.  I really shouldn't have lashed out at him like that, but last year's dueling club incident is still a sore spot for me.

"Look, you can believe that people are inherently good if you want."  I say, my voice calmer. "But I can't believe in that myself. Not anymore, and certainly not after what I've been through."

The ensuing silence is awkward, almost painfully so.  I decide to break it by changing the subject.

"Have you ever been to the kitchens, Neville?"  I ask. "I'm getting kind of hungry and I'd rather avoid the crowds if I can."

"You can go to the kitchens?  I thought that only the staff could go there."

I shake my head.  "Nah, anyone can go there — most people just don't know  _ how _ .  There's a secret passage in the basement level, not far from the Great Hall."

Neville looks conflicted, but agrees nonetheless.  "I guess so…"

"Great!"  I exclaim as I hop out of my seat.  "Just follow me and I can show you how to get there."

"Where did you learn how to get in, anyways?"  He asks. "I don't imagine that this is common knowledge."

"I've just had a lot of time to learn about the castle."  I lie. "I've been trying to learn all sorts of secret passages so I have ways to escape in case Black ever shows up again."

_ I see I'm not getting any credit for telling you how to get into the kitchens. _

'Oh, I'm sure that would go over great.  "Hey Neville, there's an adolescent Voldemort in my head and she's teaching me all kinds of things.  Wanna go on a kitchen raid since she taught me how to get in?" The poor guy would have a heart attack.'

_ I'm sure that the expression on his face before we resuscitated him would be entirely worth it. _

'Careful, Miss Riddle.  If you keep up that sort of talk, I might start thinking that you have a sense of humour.'

_ Oh, I have a sense of humour — it's just very morbid. _

'Really?  I hadn't noticed.'

_ I'll give you a pass on the sarcasm this time. _

I only then realise that Neville asked me a question while I was distracted.

"Sorry, I spaced out.  Can you repeat that?"

"Do you really think Black can get in here again?"  He asks. "I mean, yeah, he got in once, but surely they've improved security since then…"

I bite back an exasperated sigh.  "I haven't trusted Dumbledore to take security seriously ever since Voldemort got in during first year."

Neville's eyes widen a bit.  "She did? I heard you and Ron mention something like that once, but I thought you were exaggerating.  Is that why Quirrell died?"

"Something like that."  I reply tersely. "Besides, even if Dumbledore was capable of competent security measures, no one has any idea how Black got in.  They can't very well stop him if he's exploiting a weakness that no one knows about."

Neville looks pensive and unsure for a moment before pulling a long, thin sheet of parchment out of his robes.  "I guess I probably shouldn't be carrying around a list of all the passwords, then."

I snort.  "No, definitely not."

He groans in frustration.  "It's just… it's so frustrating!  I have so much trouble remembering things under normal circumstances, and Sir Cadogan changes the password twice a day!  I can't keep up with that!"

"Have you considered studying occlumency?"  I propose. "I've been doing that and it's greatly helped with my recall."

He shakes his head.  "Lots of kids from old families study at least a bit, but I never did.  Uncle Algie said that it would be a waste of money if I turned out to be a squib."

Something about the way that Neville describes his great uncle feels uncomfortably familiar to the way I would usually talk about Vernon.  I briefly wonder how Neville's home life is before quashing the sentiment. I have enough of my own issues to deal with without getting wrapped up in someone else's.

"Occlumency can be learned through self-study, so at least consider looking into it."  I say, repeating Tam's thoughts on the matter. "And if you can't make any headway there's then consider asking Hermione for help.  I'm sure she has a few tricks to help memorise things that she can share."

He thinks that over a bit as we enter the basement corridor.  "So you're saying that it's definitely a bad idea to keep the passwords list on me?"

I roll my eyes.  "Yes, Neville, it's definitely a bad idea."

I tickle the pear on the painting of the bowl of fruit, turning it into a door knob.  "This is how you get to the kitchens." I explain. "The elves are usually more than happy to provide food, so it's a great place to get food if you ever want to avoid people."

He nods.  "Right, I think I can remember that."

_ This kid is a disaster.  I already suspected it from your potions classes, but I never expected him to be this bad. _

'I suspect he might have issues in his home life.  Not extreme as those we've faced, but still…'

_ Huh, in that case, he may be able to make something of himself after all. _

'What do you mean by that?  I wouldn't wish childhoods like ours on anybody.'

_ Nor would I, but… well, people who've had such experiences are either broken by them, or we become stronger out of necessity.  We have a drive to become better because being weak is not an option. Mark my words, Longbottom will make something out of himself… assuming he doesn't get killed by his own clumsiness first. _

As if on cue, Neville fumbles the bowl of soup being handed to him be one of the kitchen elves, spilling it all over himself.

'I think the odds might be against him.'

_ Yes, well, just give him a chance.  You might be surprised. _

 

* * *

 

That evening, as I drift off to sleep, I focus on my occlumency so that I can manifest my consciousness within my mind.  A statement that sounds really stupid, now that I've thought it.

As I fade into the dark expanse of my mind, I'm surprised to see that I'm alone in my mind.  Tam has always manifested herself before I have in the past.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Tam takes that moment to materialise in my mind.  I’d never seen it happen before, so I find myself taken aback by how bizarre it looks.  It’s like watching her fade in from nothingness, materialise from particles, and be projected down into a solid form, all happening at the same time.  I immediately resolve to not think very hard about it. That seems to be a convenient rule of thumb for stopping magic from giving me headaches.

Tam gives me an amused stare once she finishes manifesting herself.  “You actually managed to come here on your own? Normally I have to drag you out of your dreams so we can talk at night.”

I shrug.  “With how often you’ve done it to me, it was pretty easy for me to do it on purpose.”

She grins at me.  “I have been helping you cheat quite a bit, haven’t I?”  She pauses and thinks for a moment. “Actually, I really  _ have _ been helping you cheat.  I didn’t consider it until now, but our cores are so close that you’ve probably been hitching off of my abilities.”

“I thought we’d established that by now.”  I say as I sit down, failing to keep the smugness off of my face when I actually manage to create a seat of my own rather than have Tam make one for me.  “I mean, I’ve been able to use silent and gestureless spells based on your experience.”

“Yes, but that’s…”  She pauses, closes her eyes, and pinches the bridge of her nose.  “That’s not what I’m getting at. The ability to access higher tiers of casting is just part of how possession works in all cases.  If I had chosen to consume Ginny’s soul and possess her body, then I would have been able to use all of my skills at their full potential.”

“Because those abilities are bound to your soul.”  I finish her thought.

“Right, but…  Harry, I think you might be using my natural skills to accelerate your own rate of learning.  You won’t be able to borrow from my own power or skill once I get a body of my own.”

A small frown crosses my face.  I’ve come to appreciate the newfound power I have at my disposal, and I’d hate to lose it.  Moreover, I think I’d hate to lose the company. Tam is unbearably egomaniacal and generally a terrible person, but I’ve come to appreciate her sarcasm and genuinely enjoy her company.  Being alone in my own head again once she gets her body back just seems like it would be, well, lonely.

Tam isn’t aware of my internal conflict and continues on.  “But I suspect that the extreme closeness between our souls is giving you an advantage.  After all, our souls are so close that our personalities can bleed into each other, and while I can reverse that, it makes me wonder if our magic is bleeding into each other as well.”

I only half followed that.  “So… what are you trying to say?  What does that even mean, on a practical level?”

“It means that…  Well, I’m not sure exactly.  We could test if I try fully occluding myself from you, but I suspect that you’re essentially using my own experience to learn faster.  By the time I have a body of my own, you might be able to use some of the wandless spells I’ve mastered on your own.”

Well that's certainly an appealing prospect.  Granted, I could technically do that now, but I've been determined to learn wandless magic on my own.  Using a wand is fun, but the idea of being able to shape the world with nothing more than my own willpower has an especially alluring appeal.  The first time I do it, I’d like for it to be something I earned through my own work, rather than simply hitching off of the abilities of my “companion”.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  I say noncommittally.

A comfortable silence falls between us.  If this sort of thing happened with Ron or Hermione, then one of us would try and break it, but I genuinely do feel comfortable around Tam in ways I don’t feel comfortable around Ron and Hermione.  I still can’t help but think that it’s mildly fucked up that I feel more comfortable around her than I do around my two oldest friends, but I really can’t bring myself to care.

“So, you were going to tell me about Grindelwald?”   I say, pulling myself out of my thoughts.

Tam lets out a short huff.  “Yeah, I suppose I should. I just… I  _ really _ dislike him.  So, where to start…”

She’s silent for another moment before she begins her explanation in earnest.

“Grindelwald and I do share similar beliefs — namely that we both believe in the superiority of magic over muggle.  Grindelwald’s methods, though…” She shudders. “Grindelwald wanted to collapse the Statute of Secrecy so magicals could openly rule over muggles.  He had conquered most of Magical Europe with his own armies and had indirectly laid waste to most of the muggle side of the continent. He did this by using the imperius curse to instigate the conflict that became World War II.”

“Lupin mentioned that.”  I note. “That he caused World War II.”

Tam nods.  “Some of my hatred for him is personal.  After all, if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have had to live through the hell that was the Blitz.  Beyond that, though…” She sighs. “He didn’t cause World War II by imperiusing an entire country. At his trial after he was defeated by Dumbledore, he confirmed that he never imperiused more than five muggles throughout the course of the entire war.  None of Hitler’s lieutenants needed any magical influence to start wholesale slaughter of civilians, and Grindelwald admitted that even Hitler himself took ‘minimal effort’ to become the monster the muggle world knows him as. He didn’t imperius many people because he didn’t need to!  He barely had to do anything to incite the radical sentiments of racism and bigotry in the populace of an entire country. He imperiused one person to become a dictator and a few others to ease his rise to power. He started the Nazi movement, but the inherent bigotry of the muggle population is what gave it traction.”

“That strikes me as the sort of strategy you’d appreciate.”  I comment. “Laying waste to the muggle population by turning their hatred against each other seems like the sort of karmic punishment that you’d do for the sake of being melodramatic.”

“Shut up!”  She screams, smashing her fist into the nonexistent wall behind her.  I can  _ feel _ the rage emanating from her as she yells.  Her manifestation is glowing with a vibrant red aura that suffocates the usual blackness of the space, and when she opens her eyes, I see that they too have taken on that same crimson hue.  As her anger slowly fades, so too does that aura around her. Once the glow fades completely, her eyes revert to their usual green colour.

Well, that was mildly terrifying. Also hot as- actually, I'm not going to finish that thought.

"Sorry, about that, but I really hate Grindelwald mostly because his plan was  _ so fucking stupid! _   Sure the basic idea was fine, but he took the muggles' blind hatred of all things different and gave it structure and turned it into a  _ military movement! _ "

She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths to calm herself.  For a brief second, I swear I can see the faintest hints of the crimson glow around her body and feel my body respond… awkwardly to the sight.

"Grindelwald's plan demonstrated an astounding underestimation of the threat muggles posed and a profound ignorance of the state of the muggle world at the time.”  She continues, not noticing my predicament. “The muggle war united several factions that would have squabbled for control otherwise. The economic boom that resulted from the war was a major factor towards ending the Great Depression that had plagued the muggle world for the previous decade. Most importantly of all, the war forced advancements in muggle military technology that made them an even  _ greater _ threat, and yet  _ he still wanted to collapse the Statute of Secrecy, the one thing that is guaranteed to keep us safe from muggles! _ "

"When you say that it made them into an even bigger threat…?"  I ask, grateful for the distraction.

"Atomic bombs, Harry."  She says despondently. "World War II was a key factor that led to the development of the atomic bomb, so Grindelwald's shortsightedness can be blamed for those… travesties existing.  I was horrified when I saw it, and atomic bombs were the factor that made me… ugh, why don't I just show you? This memory is the final memory I have — the last memory that the diary pensieve that became me was able to hold before it was completely full.  It takes place in the summer of 1945, shortly after I graduated from Hogwarts and just after the public found out about the instrument that was used to end World War II."

 

* * *

 

_ I stare in horror at the footage playing on the television.  Apparently, the London bombings weren't bad enough, so the muggles decided to create an even  _ **_more_ ** _ destructive weapon.  A single weapon that could level an entire city in an instant.  And these idiots are  _ **_celebrating_ ** _ its usage like an act of such destruction is a feat to be proud of!? _

_ Yes, they ended their stupid war, but they did so by inventing means of untold devastation!  What good is victory if it comes at the risk of annihilating the world!? _

_ No, this is wrong.  Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong  _ **_wrong_ ** _.  I knew the muggles were a threat, but this is beyond even my worst expectations.  They need to be stopped. They  _ **_have_ ** _ to be stopped.  To leave them unchecked would be to kill us all. _

_ At the same time, to engage them openly would be to kill us all…  The magical world would not survive an encounter with one of those bombs.  Wards can keep us protected, but to what extent? Could any of the world’s ward schemes withstand heat that can vaporise an entire building? _

_ They need to be stopped.  They need to be  _ **_sabotaged_ ** _.  They need to be left helpless without even realising it, so that they can be struck down before they realise how defenceless they are.  Squash them like little bugs once their precious protection is gone. _

_ Above all else, the Statute of Secrecy  _ **_must_ ** _ be upheld for as long as possible.   It is the only thing keeping us safe from outright destruction.  Sure, we’re at risk of being collateral damage if they use those bombs again, but better to lose some of the magical world as collateral than to lose all of it in outright war.  And they’d declare war. The moment they see the existence of a whole new society living under their noses they’d recoil in fear and do everything they could to eradicate it. _

_ This is important.  This is the most important thing I have ever had to do.  This is the most important thing I will ever do. I need to keep the magical world safe before it’s too late.  I need to be safe.  _ **_Everything_ ** _ needs to be safe from them. _

_ I start pacing around the sparsely furnished sitting room.  I need allies in this endeavour. Dumbledore and his muggle-loving ilk won’t understand — they’d risk the continued existence of the magical world in the name of peace.  They’d try to extend an olive branch when the bombs are already in flight. No, they can’t be trusted with this. Dumbledore himself might try to have me killed if I came to him with such a proposition.  He’d never accept me — he’d try to have me killed for being a dark witch if he ever got the chance. _

_ With them unquestionably out of the picture, that leaves… dammit.  The only other people with enough influence to back me up are the blood purists.  I loathe them with an unbridled passion for how they treated me back in school, but at the same time… _

_ They have power.  They control the legislature and they hoard all sorts of magical knowledge, knowledge that can keep our whole society safe.  Allying myself with them would make it easier to gain the necessary power and pass the necessary laws. It would be convenient, but even so, the thought of working with the likes of people like Abraxas Malfoy makes my skin crawl.  Even if we were technically positioned as equals, they’d still treat me like dirt, the same way they did back in school. The only way I’d get a modicum of respect from them is if I was in a position of unquestionable power over them. _

_ …Now that I think about it, that idea has merit.  I just need their power and influence — the means I use to get it is irrelevant.  Why approach them as equals when I could get them to bow before me like the little worms that they are? _

_ I’d need to forge a new identity, of course.  Those whelps wouldn’t serve the “Mudblood of the Snake Pit”, even if they did learn my  _ **_true_ ** _ heritage.  I’d have to assume a new identity, perhaps even parrot some of their ideals to get them to listen to me.  It would be horrible and sickening but so long as I can use them to ensure that the Statute is upheld, I could tolerate it.  If I’m going to adopt a new identity, then I may as well kill off my old one, just so no one can use my past to find out about my weaknesses.  I’ve learned of some methods to fake a death since I’ve graduated, so I may as well put them to good use, just to make sure that no one can connect my new identity with my old one. _

_ That last bit would have to be put off for a while, though.   I have enough connections that are still useful to me, and it would be far too impractical to cut those off now and reforge them from scratch.  I’ll take on a second identity, an identity with the persona of a Dark Lady and heritage of the last Heir of Slytherin. Those bastards see Salazar as the father of blood purity, so they’d swallow that story like a poisoned gourmet meal.   _

_ I’d have to take on a new name, something with a deeper meaning that would strike fear into the hearts of allies and enemies alike.  I’d name myself after the same thing that those muggles used when they destroyed a city, a Flight of Death, turn their own ideas back on them.  Yes… “Flight of Death” is a nice, menacing name. I like that.   _

_ “Flight from Death” in Latin is “Metu Mortis”, which can also mean fear of dying, a name I’d prefer not to take on.  No one would fear one who flees. The only other language I know is French. My skills in the language are a little rusty, but the term there translates to “Vol De Mort”.  Lady Voldemort has a nice ring to it. I’d probably have to anglicise the pronunciation a bit, but that’s fine. _

_ This would have to be kept an absolute secret.  I wouldn’t trust any one of those arseholes unless they were magically bound in servitude to me.  If they caught on to who I really was, they would turn on me in a heartbeat. They can’t be trusted.  No one can be trusted. No one can know that Tamelyn Merope Riddle is the Lady Voldemort. It’s too dangerous, too completely unacceptable. _

_ The one bright side, though, being a Dark Lady would mean that I could torture those pathetic wastes every time they fucked up.  It would be the perfect therapeutic exercise to get revenge for all the torment they put me through. I cackle at the thought of making Abraxas suffer.  It would be the perfect punishment for all of his crap that I was forced to put up with, for all of the times he propositioned me to be his mistress as if I should be honoured he was even paying attention to me.  Oh how I wish I had killed him like I meant to. This, though? This might be just as good. Why end his bloodline if I could instead make them spend an eternity in my service? _

_ And it will be an eternity.  I have secured a few of my keys to immortality, and with them, I will outlast  _ **_everything_ ** _.  My body will age, but my spirit will linger for as long as my horcruxes last. _

_ That thought stills at the thought of my horcruxes.  They’re said to be borderline indestructible, but borderline indestructible is not indestructible.  I need to hide them, do everything I can to keep them safe so I can last forever. The thought of being separated from them fills me with painful agitation, but they need to be safe.   _ **_I need to be safe!_ **

_ If someone kills me, then my horcruxes would surely follow.  I can’t keep then on me. It would be painful beyond belief to be away from them, but at least I’d be safe.  Safety is key. And even then… _

_ I glance back at the television, where the footage of a mushroom cloud rising through the ash is visible.  I’m not sure that even a horcrux could withstand the intensity of that blast. I need to keep them in the safest places imaginable, as far from harm as I can reasonably get them.  I’m sure I have a few ideas already… _

_ I pull the diary out of the inner pocket of my robes where I always (always!) keep it.  It is my most prized possession — a part of my soul that will one day become a copy of me.  I’ve filled it with a copy of every one of my memories up until the moment of its… of  _ **_her_ ** _ creation.  I had to be more sparing with what memories I gave her since, since it has enormous, but not infinite, capacity.  And just after graduating, I filled it completely. _

_ I already feel the absence of the comfortable warmth I get from keeping it pressed against my chest, as close to me as possible, but I can live without it.  I can live without anything so long as I can keep it free from harm. _

_ I’m hesitant to remove any one of the memories contained within, but today… today is important.  It needs to know what to do. It needs to know what I will do and why I will do it. Above all, it needs to know that the muggles are a threat and  _ **_why_ ** _ they are a threat.  I flip through the blank pages of the book, feeling the memories contained in each one as I go.  I’d rather not remove the earlier memories, lest I interfere with the reconstruction of my personality, but some of the later ones… _

_ Oh, this one is perfect.  In fact, it would arguably be better to have this memory removed.  After all, I could hide one of my horcruxes in that location, the same place I created it, and the fewer people who know about the locations of my horcruxes, the better.  My diary could never give away their locations if even she doesn’t know where they are. Now then… _

_ I push my wand against the page of the book and pull the memory strand out of the page, letting it slip back into my head where it belongs.  I then focus on this memory, these events happening right now and _

**_P_ **

**_U_ **

**_L_ **

**_L_ **

 

* * *

 

Coming back to my own awareness is even more jarring than usual.  Not only do I have to deal with my own identity snapping back into place, but I have to deal with some level of sanity returning to me as well.  The experience is akin to waking up but still operating on nonsensical dream logic for a moment before reality properly asserts itself.

“Oh my god, you are insane.”  I say the moment I’ve had a chance to process what I just experienced.  I’ve understood  _ how _ Tamelyn was able to become Voldemort, but this is the first time I’ve understood  _ why _ she became Voldemort.  There was an actual logical reasoning to what she chose to do, even if it was twisted through paranoia and insanity.  “You’re insane and you’ve been faking being sensible this whole time.”

“I’m not insane.”  She says, and though I can’t see her face since my hands are covering my own, I know she’s making that small frown that she does whenever she thinks I’m missing the point or mildly disapproves of something.  “At least, not anymore…”

I look up at her and see that she is indeed making that frown.  “Oh, well you’re not insane  _ anymore! _   Well, that’s just  _ swell! _   Everything’s good now, I guess!”  I yell, my voice dripping with sarcasm and hysteria.

“Will you shut up and listen to me!”  She yells back before taking a few calming breaths.  “I reacted… poorly to the creation of my first horcrux.  I was very highly paranoid about being caught or killed or, well, anything.  I’m not going to say that I was of sound mind in that memory, because I clearly wasn’t.”

“Really?”  I scoff. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, shut up.”  She snarls. “Just because I wasn’t of sound mind doesn’t mean I was  _ wrong! _   If it came down to a war between muggles and magicals, I am honestly terrified that the muggles would win.  I love magic more than anything, and the loss of knowledge that would come would the destruction of the magical world would be a tragedy beyond words.”

I’m about to protest that muggleborn magicals would still exist, popping up here and there throughout the muggle population, but quickly realise that that has very little weight on its own.  After all, if muggleborns don’t have anyone to learn magic  _ from _ , would they ever truly be able to use it at all?  Suddenly, the magical world feels much more fragile than it did before, as though the whole thing could come toppling down with the removal of a few key individuals.

“I don’t…  What was your plan, anyways?  What was your endgame?” I ask.  “Use the power and influence of the purebloods to ensure that the Statute is upheld indefinitely?”

She sighs.  “That memory is rather… disjointed compared to the rest that I have.  I have no other memories from that exact timeframe, so I’m missing some key details and context.  That said, I can easily speculate what my plans would have been based on what I know of myself and what I know happened.  First, I would have focused on gathering a power base and using them to influence the legislature, passing as many laws as possible to severe unnecessary ties with the muggle world.  If I met too much resistance on that front, then I would have continued to apply political pressure while causing an insurrection to weaken the government so that I could bring it under my control.  From there, I would have used it as a centre of influence so that I could prepare the magical world for a large-scale conflict with the muggles and then do the same to various other magical governments.  Once I had enough resources at my disposal, I would focus on subtly weakening the muggle governments by installing weaker leaders and quietly disabling as many of their weapons as possible, so that when the inevitable day comes where the Statute does well and truly collapse, we would be far from defenceless and they would be weak and easy to crush.”

“And you’d kill plenty of muggleborns in the process.”  I add, bitterness seeping into my voice.

“That was the plan at first, yes.  It would have been an easy way to keep the blood purists appeased, and it would reduce the risk of accidents that could risk the Statute.  Once I was in control of the government, though, there would be no need for such measures. As the leader of the government, I could easily remove muggleborn children from non-magical homes so they could be taken into the magical world.  They’d have no ties to the muggle world, and thus not be a risk to the Statute.”

There’s a cold, calculating logic to that, actually.  It’s unnecessarily ruthless, but the reasoning is sound enough that I understand why she wants to do it.

“You know I won’t let you do that.”  I say quietly. “I won’t let you kill muggleborns just to maintain the Statute.”

“I said that’s what I  _ would _ have done.  I have established that I was not thinking clearly.  You made a valid point when you said that so long as I was tracking them down, it would have been better to just remove them from the muggle world then rather than make unnecessary enemies by slaughtering them.  I would be breaking the law no matter what I did, but kidnapping is arguably less terrible than murder under the circumstances.”

I sigh in relief.  Thank God for small mercies.

“I’m still worried about other muggleborns who spent their life in that world, though.”  Tam continues as she moves away from the wall and sits down beside me. “I mean… let me ask you a question.  If you had to pick between the muggle world and the magical world, which would you side with? And I don’t mean in the sense of where you would live.  I mean, if you had to eradicate one to ensure the survival of the other, which would you pick?”

I pause, actually taken aback by the question.   I almost ask her if she really thinks it will come down to that, but…

Well, the world already almost ended within the past century, what with that nuclear missile crisis back in the sixties.  And that was just caused by an extreme difference in political ideology. Sure, the crisis was barely averted, but magicals borderline on being a separate species.  If the muggle governments were prepared to destroy themselves over that, then they’d likely react the same way, if not worse, should the Magical World be exposed.

“You really think there’s no way for a peaceful solution?”  I ask.

“Assume for the sake of argument that one of them  _ must _ be destroyed for the other to survive.”

It’s a terrible thought to even entertain, but I don’t answer the question.  I don’t need to answer. The magical world has its fair share of issues, but returning to the muggle world every summer is an experience I dread.  Yes, the Dursleys are a major factor in that, but, well, I don’t have a life in the magical world. I can tell that Tam knows how I would answer just as much as I do.  She knows that I would make the same choice that she would, even if it’s not a choice I would make for the same reason.

Sensing that I’ve come to an unvoiced decision, she continues on.  “What about the other muggleborns, though? The ones who were raised there, and have families there.  Do you think that they would choose the same way we would? Or do you think that they would sell us out?”

That’s an even more horrifying thought to entertain.  I think about Hermione, and the way she talks about her family and the vacations she takes with them whenever she’s not in school.  I know which side she would choose, and it pains me to admit it we’d be enemies if it ever came to that.

“I don’t like this.”  I say, voice wavering.  “I don’t like that you’re treating this as though it has to be a zero sum game, that there’s no option for a peaceful solution.”

“I don’t like it either.”  She replies as she stares off into the blank distance.

“But… but if the worst comes to pass and it really does come down to one or the other, then I guess we’re on the same side.”  I continue. “And… I agree that maintaining the Statute for as long as possible would be the best way to prevent that from ever happening.  I’m not about to go about killing for the sake of the Statute, and I’ll stop you from doing so if you try, but I’ll do what I can to help within reason.  Alright?”

“That’s… more than I expected, honestly.”  She replies.

“But!”  I interject, cutting off any further comments.  “This willingness to work together  _ only _ applies to you.  Even if Voldemort is sane, as you so often insist she is, then she’ll have a  _ lot _ to make up for before I’d even  _ consider _ working with her.  Even then, I will  _ only _ work with her if she shows that she’s willing to change her methods like you have.”

“That… means a lot to me.  Thanks.” She says, the words clearly unfamiliar on her tongue.

“Thank me if it actually happens.”  I huff, lying down on my back to stare upwards.  “The plans that you outlined in that memory of yours match up enough with the Voldemort that I have seen that I’m willing to cast doubt on my preconceptions about her.  At the same time, she  _ was _ crazy in the memory you showed me, and she was crazy when I met her back in first year.  You can insist that she’s sane all you want, but the evidence I’ve seen points to the contrary.  I don’t think that an insane you is going to make a very cooperative negotiator.”

Tam lies down as well, and we both stare up at the blankness above us.  As I stare at it, I slowly realise that the space isn’t perfectly black.  It’s very dark, but has faints hints of various other colours here and there, like the faint, almost static-like patterns that one sees when their eyes are closed.

“Well, that conversation was less terrible than I was expecting.”  She says as I start picking out patterns in the almost-colours.

“Speak for yourself.  I feel like I just compromised my entire moral centre, even if I had a good reason for doing so.”  I reply. “I’m exhausted.”

She pushes herself up.  “We have had a very long day — some actual sleep would probably benefit us.  Occlumency induced dreamstates are nice, but sometimes you need a chance to stop thinking for a while.  Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Tamelyn.”

Her manifestation dispels itself, and I do the same to my own shortly thereafter, letting my awareness fall into the realm of dreams.

Dreams filled with death and terror and betrayal, with mad plans fueled by paranoia, though I’m never sure who’s paranoia it is.

I didn't sleep well that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N (Tendra):** In case anyone’s wondering, the muggle whose mind grossed Harry out is canonically my friend and fellow fanfiction author BolshevikMuppet99.  Who knows which of his many deviant fantasies was going through his head when Harry took a peek?
> 
>  _Lumos Magus_ is literally Magelight from Elder Scrolls, in case any of your were wondering.  Also, while I know that the Goblet of Fire game is less well received than many of the other Harry Potter videogames, I prefer the molten red appearance of _Carpe Retractum_ in that game compared to the purple appearance that it had in Prisoner of Azkaban.
> 
> The idea of Remus being bound by an unbreakable vow not to reveal the other’s forms unless they were betrayed is an idea that I first read in the fic _Weres Harry?_   It is honestly the only sensible explanation I have come across for why Remus didn’t tell anyone about Sirius’s animagus form, hence why I used it here for this fic’s sensible Lupin.
> 
> So, am I the only one who feels like JKR’s implication that Grindelwald was responsible for World War II is sort of belittling to the insidious rise of the Nazi movement and the dangers of bigotry and nationalism?  Because I have spent a lot of time thinking about that. I tried to go for a middleground route in this fic, where Grindelwald did cause WWII by creating a figurehead, but that the actual rise of the Nazi Party happened with minimal influence on his part.
> 
> Several people have asked about the origin of “Voldemort” in this fic, since “Tamely Merope Riddle” is not an anagram for “I am Lady Voldemort”.  Frankly, I never liked the anagram part of Voldemort’s name, so I readily disposed of it for this fic. The real origin of Voldemort is that Tam sucks at French and didn’t realise it had the same issues that the Latin version did.
> 
> Also, as a heads up, I went back and edited all previous chapters in this fic.  Most of what I changed was just typo fixes, but I also extended a few scenes in the earlier chapters and adjusted several of Tamelyn’s older lines about her motivations to bring them closer to the events covered in the most recent chapters.
> 
> Lastly, this fic's wordcount has surpassed 100k as of this chapter!  Even according the the "true" wordcount on ao3 (that doesn't contain my little ramblings down here), this fic has now hit six digits.
> 
>  **E/N (Xgenje):** I found this chapter to actually be fun to edit… But it did take several sittings though. Which is why this chapter was delayed (Sorry! My bad.)
> 
> But as an addendum to the whole WW2 section, it can be summarily stated by the wise phrase: A person is smart, but people are dumb.
> 
> I was the one who ended up pitching the idea of Tam starting with Latin before transitioning to French. Considering almost ALL of the spells in the HP universe are Latin based, I figured Tam would be more fluent in Latin and realise the issues with Latin’s connotation based language structure. Seriously though I suffered through 4 years of Latin, Imma use it.
> 
>  **E/N (Foadar):** Not quite Anakin swearing himself to the Sith in Chancellor Palpatine’s office, but close enough. Like Tendra, I share discomfort with the implications of making Grindelwald responsible for the Nazis and thus, WWII and the Holocaust, and even demanded proof from Tendra before believing as much. For the moment, I am absolutely disgusted with said decision by JKR. Tendra’s route is much closer to acceptable, even if I still personally disagree with it.
> 
> For those that do not know BolshevikMuppet99, let me just say that the less said the better.


End file.
